


some infinitely gentle (infinitely suffering) thing

by wollfgang



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angels, Angst, BAMF Chloe Decker, Canon Bisexual Character, Case Fic, Demons, F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Post-Finale, Post-Season/Series 02, Reveal, Wing Reveal, Wingfic, devil reveal, god gave luci his wings, written before season 3 so theres no sinnerman but also no marcus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2018-11-10 02:27:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11117967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang
Summary: Lost in the desert, there’s not many options for Lucifer other than picking a direction and hoping for the best. He needs to get to civilization fast, or at the very least, find water.Regardless of whether the return of his wings is a blessing or a curse, their reappearance has greater consequences for everyone than Lucifer can even imagine.





	1. Chapter 1

_Heb 11:38 and the world was not worthy of them. They wandered about in deserts and mountains and caves and dens of the earth_

*~*~*~*~*

Lucifer starts walking, because what else can he do? He’s got no cell phone, no way of communicating his location. He’s been stripped of shirt, his shoes, even his belt. Why on earth would they take his _belt_? 

There’s not many options other than picking a direction and hoping for the best. Additionally, it’s clear he’s been left here in the desert for an undetermined, but significant, amount of time. Long enough to have burned flesh already peeling and to be severely dehydrated. He needs to get to civilization fast, or at the very least, find water. 

Lucifer refuses to utilize the - the _monstrosities_ on his back, pride and shame warring in his chest. It’s _fine_ , really, he’ll just get back to L.A. and have Maze lop them right back off again. Like they never happened. 

He pulls the wings against his spine, doing his level best to completely ignore their existence. Essentially grounded, he raises a hand to shade his eyes and sees sand and sand and, yep, more sand. Vaguely to the north he can just make out the distant haze of mountains.

The mountains are his best bet, it’s the only thing of note in his entire field of vision, besides swathes of empty desert and shrubs. The sun is ascending in the sky, not quite noon. Perhaps late morning? Maybe he can find shelter until the heat of the day passes. With his course of action determined, he sets off, bare feet slogging through hot sand. 

He takes his time to think, because there’s not much else to do. He can’t remember what happened past getting knocked over the head, but he can figure a few things out. It had to have been a fellow angel because Chloe hadn’t been anywhere near him. It was someone other than Amenadiel because his Fallen brother’s strength had only continued to degrade.

Had...had his father decreed this? Why would he grant him his wings again? After he had gone so far to rid himself of them? Is this a reward...or a punishment?

And he walks and he walks and he walks. He keeps his wings pinned tight to his back to the point his muscles ache with it. With every passing hour, his thoughts are reduced to _one foot in front of the other_. He can’t afford to ponder the meaning behind these latest developments, what new manipulation his Father has designed, not when the sun beats hellishly down on his head and the sand scours his skin. 

Sweat drips continuously down his face and back, stinging his eyes and the patches of raw and blistered skin, and there’s hardly enough of a breeze to make good use of it. His lips have cracked open and every now and again he licks blood from them. His heart pounds loud in his ears. He looks up at the blue sky, squinting against the blinding sun crawling slowly higher. 

When he starts to get dizzy he finally relents, forcing himself to swallow his pride and extend his wings over his head in an attempt to create some shade. It’s marginally better, but until he can find some sort of permanent protection, it’s the best he can do. He has to continue on. 

He’s been walking for what he thinks is about four hours as the temperatures have climbed well past a hundred degrees. The sun is still fairly high in sky when he stumbles his way towards a rocky cliff face, pockmarked with caves. 

In his delirium he nearly thanks his Father, a combination of constantly hearing the humans offer meaningless thanks to dear Dad and old habit. His whole body locks up, frozen, feathers bristling. The words sit there, scalding on his tongue, unuttered. He chokes them down, the sensation only serving to remind him how parched he is. 

He finds a cave just big enough to tuck himself in, heedless of the thought of spiders or snakes. He settles and rests his head back on rough rock. He shivers in the sudden shade hard enough to wrack his teeth, though he’s grateful for the chill on his overheated skin. He closes his eyes because watching the cave spin around him makes him feel like throwing up. 

He unconsciously tucks his wings around himself and falls into a fitful, exhausted sleep.

*~*~*~*

Dan sets a coffee down on Chloe’s desk who looks more and more frazzled the later it gets. She glances up briefly, distracted. 

“Thanks, Dan.” she says dismissively, though he knows she doesn’t mean to be. 

“Any word?” he asks, even though they both know there hasn’t been. 

She blows out an explosive breath and a few wayward strands of hair flutter in its wake. “No, nothing.” She looks over the papers in her hands. “It doesn’t make any sense.” She looks up at him with desperate eyes and she may not be his wife anymore, but he has always been helpless against those eyes. 

“Walk me through it.” he suggests and she gives him a ‘ _really_?’ look, but he just raises his eyebrows and waits her out. 

“Alright.” She takes a deep breath and organizes her thoughts. “There was the altercation on the pier with Chet’s brother, Charlotte and Lucifer.” she says, mentally reviewing the start. “Lucifer and Charlotte inexplicably disappear and reappear on the other side of the pier where Charlotte loses her memory.” 

“And the knife he had is gone, too.” Dan adds, another bit of strangeness that went unexplained. 

“Right.” _Because things aren’t weird enough_ , Chloe thinks. “Next, we can place Lucifer at the hospital visiting Linda. He stays there for about an hour. He calls me at 9:03pm, leaves a voicemail.” she continues, though Dan can see the guilt flicker across her face. She’d been reading a bedtime story to Trixie and hadn’t picked her phone up. She can’t help but wonder if things would be different if she had. 

“Phone records confirm.” Dan adds and Chloe nods absently, her attention focused inward. 

“I listen to his voicemail and he says he will stop by, but he never shows. I think that he forgot, or changed his mind, or ran off again. God, how could I have thought that?” Her head falls into her hands. 

Dan reaches forward and grips her arm tight. “It’s not your fault, Chloe. You can’t blame yourself, okay?”

Chloe doesn’t acknowledge the platitude and presses on through the timeline they’ve established. 

“Lucifer doesn’t pick up his phone the next morning, so I go to Lux to check on him. His place is trashed.” Chloe remembers her shock at the destroyed piano, holes smashed into the stonework walls in the apartment. “Employees verify he never came home. If I had just...” she trails off. 

“Chloe -” he starts, but she cuts him off, unwilling to talk about it. 

“We start backtracking from his last known whereabouts. Cameras corroborate his hospital visit and catch him being assaulted near the parking lot. Blow to the head. Unidentified assailant is roughly 5’11", assumed male, and covered in head to toe black clothing. His face isn’t visible from the camera angle.” she recites matter-a-factly, pushing as much emotion from her voice as she can.

“And then he drags Lucifer out of frame.” Dan concludes. Chloe nods.

“His phone is tracked to the hospital parking lot. Maze has no idea where he is. Charlotte doesn’t even _remember_ him.” she says with frustration. 

Dan sighs, Lucifer wasn’t the only one Charlotte has forgotten and Dan doesn’t know what to make of it. 

“It’s been _four days_ , Dan. We have no suspects and no leads.” her voice growing sharper. 

“We’ll find him, Chloe.” Dan says instead, blue eyes determined. “I promise.” 

She sags back into her chair. “Okay.” she says and her voice sounds painfully small. 

“Drink your coffee, I’ll go see if Ella has anything.” He gives her shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he goes. 

Ella doesn’t have anything more for him, but she’s substantially more optimistic about it. Still, he leans against the edge of a table and lets her rattle off information. It’s soothing for both of them. “Forensics haven’t uncovered anything unusual. I’m still waiting on a few reports, but...” she trails off and winces. “I’m not expecting anything relevant.” 

Dan sighs again. It’s nothing different from what he thought, but he had been holding out hope. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.” he replies. “There’s a lot that’s not matching up in this case.”

“Yeah, like, who would want to kidnap Lucifer? He’s _such_ a nice guy.” Ella says with sincere confusion. 

“Right.” Dan says, manfully restraining his humor. 

“I went to visit Linda.” Ella says suddenly.

“How is she?” Dan asks quietly. 

“She’s doing good. Recovering.” Ella concedes with a odd, little bob. “She’s a part of the Tribe, you know? Maze was there too.”

Dan raises a brow, unsure where this is going. “And what does our resident bounty hunter have to say about all this?”

“She said that she’s tried to track Lucifer herself, but could only get as far as the hospital. Said something about angelic interference?” Ella shrugs when Daniel makes a face. “Yeah, I know. But if it gets Lucifer home, it gets Lucifer home, right? Anyway she said something about getting Amenadiel to help.”

“Well, angels or not, we could use all the help we can get.” Dan says. Ella offers him a wobbly smile. “Lemme know if you get anything?” he asks, getting to his feet.

She nods sternly. “Of course.” She watches Dan leave and then stares blankly into space as she thinks. Then she grips the tiny cross that adorns her necklace and looks upwards. “Please,” she murmurs. “Bring him home.” 

*~*~*~*~

Lucifer wakes with a gasp. It’s pitch black inside the crevice he’s wedged himself into and it takes him quite a bit longer than it should to remember why. Feathers gleam around him, soft and comforting. He twitches violently, nearly braining himself on the rock he’s leaned against. 

He hauls himself to his feet and braces himself against the cave wall, trying to keep from heaving up the contents of his stomach. He isn’t sure how long he’s been sleeping - long enough for it to have been dark for a while. There’s no visible moon to give him much of an indication and he’s too out of it to even think about checking for it. 

His thoughts are muddied in his head and as he cranes back to look at the incline of the rock above him, he comes up with a semblance of a plan. If he gets enough elevation he might be able to get a better idea of what direction he needs to go. That means he needs to climb up the mountain. 

He begins climbing, wedging his feet in between two rocks and ascending slowly, searching out footholds and grabbable rock, scraping his toes and knuckles bloody. He manages to find some sort of animal path that makes it a bit easier to traverse, gravel digging into the soles of his feet, but about twenty minutes into the endeavor, lungs heaving, head splitting, he realizes he’s not going to have enough time or energy to reach the top. 

He’s going to have to fly. 

Height is what he needs - height enough to see and height enough to soar. He will be able to ride the thermals and save his strength. He carefully toes out towards an edge where he can stand without fear of slipping. He spreads his wings out and shudders with some mix of awe and terror. 

Not giving himself enough time to think about it he launches himself off and into free fall, but the muscles are new and Lucifer hasn’t flown in so long. His wings beat frantically at the air, but they’re not able to generate enough lift and he quickly loses what altitude he’d managed to gain. He falls, careening wildly before hitting the sand, hard. 

“Ow.” he groans, his whole side stinging and bruised. At least his wings are no worse for wear, a broken wing is all he needs at this point. He staggers to his feet and brushes the sand and dirt off himself angrily, letting out a stream of cursing. He’s peppered with little scratches and punctures now and his trousers are thoroughly ruined.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing for him to do except try again. His climbing of the mountain goes slower this time, he keeps having to stop from dizzy spells and the way his side throbs with pain.

It’s not worse than being hurled into Hell, though, so he continues on doggedly. He reaches where he had attempted to fly before and passes it. Perhaps a little more space between him and the ground would help. He works his way upward until he finds a perfect outcropping of stone, ideal for his purposes. 

He slowly makes his way to the ledge and stands there, trying to catch his breath. Lucifer tilts his head back and looks up at the dark night sky. It’s dappled with stars, great burning balls of gas that he himself had set alight. He once more stretches out his wings, but this time he closes his eyes and he sinks down into himself. 

He is the Lightbringer and he has wings spun of purest starlight. He focuses on the flight muscles that coil and bunch along his back, equal parts familiar and foreign. He casts his senses down into his feathers, each perfectly formed pinion shivering in anticipation. This is him. These are his wings. 

A sudden surge of energy burns through him, down through his muscles, settling deep in the marrow of his bones. With that, he launches himself skyward, eyes locked on a single, bright star and he forces himself closer with every powerful flex of his wings, higher and higher, as if he could break through the atmosphere and touch the glittering stars he had given birth to. 

The angel in him rejoices, age old instincts flooding his brain, reminding him that he is more of Heaven than of Earth and that he belongs to the sky. He ascends until he can’t go any further, his wings exhausting the burst of energy and he levels off, banking and spiraling in wide, lazy circles. 

It’s on his second pass around that he spots it. Lights. A small cluster of lights gathered together like little sheep. It isn’t a very big town, but it is more than enough for Lucifer. He angles himself with a flick of feathers and begins gliding in the proper direction. Night in the desert might be cooler, but the heat compaction left him plenty of hot air vents to rise and fall from, allowing him to conserve as much energy as possible. 

He might just make it to the edge of town before his wings give out on him. 

*~*~*~*

Down below, Hell rings with noise as Demons throw their heads back in full-throated roars.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucifer hits the ground about fifty yards from the road that will lead into town with dawn just peaking over the horizon. It’s not the worst landing he’s ever had, but the overwhelming exhaustion certainly doesn’t help matters. He thinks he’ll lie here, for just a minute or two, and lets his wings slip away into the spiritual plane. The determined instinct for survival doesn’t let him rest very long, rousing him and forcing him onward, even when he trips and falls.

He reaches the road and walks along the warm pavement more on automatic than any cognizant thought. He must faint at some point from right off his feet because next thing he knows he’s on the ground and someone is shaking his shoulder roughly. His eyes flutter open to see a man, knees in the dirt in front of him.

“Hey! You alright? You speak English? Estas bien, hombre?”

“Hablo todos los idiomas.” Lucifer replies back, his indignation second-nature. He coughs and his whole body spasms painfully. “Water?” he asks, voice hoarse, squinting his eyes shut against the light.

There’s the sound of fumbling and the crack of plastic. “Whoa, easy there.” the stranger cautions and the hard rim of a water bottle is pressed to his lips. “Slowly, now. Small sips, okay?”

The water is lukewarm and tasteless, but Lucifer would rather guzzle the whole thing down. He remains obedient by the virtue that he can hardly move. So he takes little drinks and isn’t able to chase after the water bottle when it moves away. 

“I wasn’t sure you were alive, at first. But I still had to stop, you know? Couldn’t leave you to the buzzards, wouldn’t be right.”

“Thank you.” Lucifer says, unaccustomed to issuing out gratitude, but knowing it was more than due.

“De nada.” The man shrugs. “C’mon, let’s get you to the truck. Can you walk?”

“Maybe.” Lucifer grits, struggling upright, the man darts forward, placing careful hands under his arms and helping him to his feet. Lucifer looks up to see a red, beat up pickup truck idling on the side of the road. Leaning heavily on the stranger, they begin moving forward. 

The man gently sets Lucifer up against the fender while he wrenches open the passenger door with a loud squeal. He returns for Lucifer and tries to help as much as he can to maneuver a six foot plus individual who is little more than dead weight. Lucifer falls backwards into the seat in a close enough position, so the man reaches for Lucifer’s legs and swivels them into the truck, noticing the bloody, ragged state of Lucifer’s feet.

“Let’s get you buckled in and to the doctor, okay?” he says, carefully sliding the seat belt over Lucifer and clicking it secure. The man runs over to the other side and puts the truck and gear, cranks the air conditioning all the way up, and then they are barrelling along the road towards the town.

“Stay with me, hombre. C’mon, talk to me. How long were you out there?” he rambles at his passenger, pushing his ancient truck past the speed limit.

“Can’t quite remember, a few days?” Lucifer theorizes.

“You must have walked right through the Devils Playground.”

“I’m sorry, the what?” Lucifer does a double take.

“It’s the name of the salt flats near here, stretches nearly 40 miles. Part of the Mojave National Preserve.” Seeing as he was losing his audience, he asks another question. “What’s your name?”

“Lucifer Morningstar.” Lucifer says, not without a bit of wry humor at the situation. But he focuses on that, on who he is.

“Como el Diablo?” the man asks with wide, surprised eyes.

“Yes, exactly like the devil.” Lucifer coughs out a laugh.

“Dude, we make quite a pair! I’m Gabriel.” The man grins at him. Lucifer snorts in return. “So that makes you and me sort of brothers, doesn’t it?” Gabriel jokes. That might be the most positive reaction to his name yet.

Lucifer offers a weakly raised eyebrow, perfectly demonstrating his skepticalness even as fatigued as he is. Still, he feebly stretches out his senses and finds nothing from Gabriel apart from your everyday, average human.

Just an especially kind one.

Taking Lucifer’s inattention as another sign of heat exhaustion, Gabriel starts up a stream of chatter. “Don’t worry, man, Baker is only like ten, fifteen miles from here. You very nearly made it. Here, keep sipping. I’ll call ahead to let them know we are coming.” Gabriel explains and Lucifer nods, carefully taking the water bottle with shaky hands.

The call is quick, Gabriel talking to a Deputy he seems familiar with who is coordinating with Emergency Medical services. He finishes the conversation and hangs up. 

“Anyway, if you’re bad off enough they will send you down to the Hospital in Barstow, it’s pretty nice there. My little girl is there right now for treatment. But the Med Services in Baker might be enough, you’re not the only person to get lost in the Preserve, so they should have stuff on hand for you. You got any kids?”

Lucifer gives his head a small shake. Gabriel, without taking his eyes off of the road, hands Lucifer a little plastic picture holder with multiple photos. 

“That’s me and the missus.” he says pointing to the dark haired beauty in the picture. They both look happy. Lucifer turns to the next photo. “And that’s the light of my life, Maria Lucia.” Gabriel says with clear pride in his voice. 

Even Lucifer must admit that for a human larva the small girl is awfully cute, all chubby cheeks and innocent joy. Lucifer flips to the next picture and it’s the same little girl with a backpack on and a beaming face. First day of school, perhaps? The next picture though, startles him. The girl is lying in a hospital bed, pale and hairless, oxygen tubes running under her nose. Despite that, she is still smiling. 

“Acute lymphocytic leukemia.” Gabriel says, a series of words Lucifer only understands as _sickness_. “The treatment is hard on her,” Gabriel’s voice goes somber. “But she’s a fighter.” And then he grins. 

Lucifer can’t do more than blink at the man. Sometimes, still, he is fascinated by his father’s little experiment of humanity. Lucifer has been witness to the worst of them, their degradation and hatred. Yet, they still manage to surprise him with their tenacity and goodness. 

Gabriel slows as they approach the town, Lucifer’s eyes fix on the massive thermometer that sticks up high enough to be clearly visible. It’s such an odd thing that he doesn’t notice Gabriel has pulled to a stop until he shuts the vehicle off. 

There is someone waiting nearby with a stretcher, which he is offended by until he tries to step out on his feet. Agony lanced up his legs and his vision dances with spots.

“Woah!” Gabriel catches him and helps the medical personnel lift him up onto the gurney and begin rolling him inside. Gabriel walks with him, but a nurse stops him at a certain point, directing him to a waiting room. 

“I’ll see you once they’ve fixed you up, okay?” Gabriel shouts after Lucifer and then settles down with a magazine to wait. 

Lucifer tries not to let on how much that means to him. 

The doctors take him back and ask him questions about how long he was out there while taking his temperature and recording his pulse. When they insert an IV for a saline drip he watches in morbid fascination as the needle slides easily into his skin. That shouldn’t be happening, unless his energy reserves were completely depleted. Or the needle is made from a demon blade, but he somehow doubts that. 

He answers the doctors as best he can, his medical history is spotty at best and is usually a cold pack with painkillers and whiskey at worst. He doesn’t think they’d appreciate him telling them that, though. 

They decide against a cold shower, his temperature is stabilizing now that he’s out of the heat, but they do bathe his wounds. They clean them of debris and disinfect them before applying a cold cream and wrapping them, his side and his feet the worst of it. They dress him in a hospital gown and leave him in his room with strict orders to rest. 

Gabriel knocks on the door before stepping inside. “Hey, man. How you feelin’?” 

“Much better.” Lucifer says honestly, a smile spreading across his face. Painkillers were a wonder and he was experiencing the full effects of them, his angelic abilities slow to return. 

Gabriel sits down in the chair beside his bed. “That’s great!”

Lucifer lets his face turn serious. “I owe you a very great deal, Gabriel.” Lucifer tells him.

Gabriel ducks his head. “Aw, nah, man. It’s not like that at all, I just did what anyone else would do, you know?”

“Not everyone would go out of their way to help the Devil.” Lucifer replies. “Which means I owe you a favor.” It’s a little harder than it should be, but he draws his inherent magnetism up, eyes going dark and entrancing. “So, tell me, Gabriel. What do you desire?”

Gabriel’s brow furrows and Lucifer can feel the man’s natural defenses reacting to his intrusion. Lucifer expected Gabriel to have hidden depths but gradually he crumbles under Lucifer’s charm. The man’s eyes go shiny. “I just want my baby girl to be well.”

Lucifer releases Gabriel and the man sinks backwards in his chair. “What just -” 

His question is cut off by another man entering the room. “Lucifer Morningstar?” he asks. 

“The one and only.” Lucifer grins back his showman’s grin, ignoring the headache taking residence inside his skull. 

“I’m Deputy Jim Morgan. I’d like to go over how you ended up in the Devils Playground.” 

The deputy is a shorter man, in his early fifties with an impressively bushy mustache that’s gone white with age, like the rest of his hair. Every inch of the stereotypical small town lawman, but he’s still fit and carries himself with the quiet confidence of someone who knows what they’re doing. Lucifer can respect that, not that he’s going to let the deputy know. 

Lucifer sighs condescendingly, but waves his hand for the deputy to continue. Lucifer stays remarkably compliant, cooperating with the deputy fairly willingly, even if he does manage to mock his tie, his mustache, and his avenue of questioning.

“You say you were attacked outside a hospital in Los Angeles?”

“Yes, I work with the police there as a civilian consultant. My partner is Detective Chloe Decker. She can confirm my story, in fact, with the holes in my memory she might have more to tell you than I can.” Lucifer admits.

The deputy carefully writes down the precinct number and direct line to Detective Decker that Lucifer rattles off. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morningstar. I’ll be right back.” and he steps outside to make some calls. 

Gabriel seems to be in some state of mild shock, but recovers well, leading a largely one sided conversation with Lucifer as he talks about whatever seems to come up into his head with regular deviations about his daughter. The deputy steps back in, his face looking aggrieved.

“Your Detective wants to speak with you.” he says and hands the phone to Lucifer quickly, as if he could feel Chloe’s impatience through the line. Lucifer grabs it up eagerly and presses it to his ear, shooing the deputy back outside. 

“Detective!” Lucifer greets effusively. There’s a noise oddly like a sob on the other end and the joy falls from his face instantly. “Detective? Are you quite alright?” he asks, unsure why she sounds upset. 

“You stay _right_ where you are, Lucifer Morningstar.” she says in her most threatening of tones. He’s never heard his name spoken in such a manner and he’s heard God himself thunder it. A chill goes down his spine. “You hear me? I'm coming to get you, okay? You do _not_ leave that Med Center.” 

“I - yes, of course, Detective. I shan’t move an inch.” he promises dutifully. 

“But you’re okay?” Her voice sounds more worried than he ever wished to make her. 

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Well, except for the fact that my wardrobe seems to have absconded. Could I trouble you to bring me a change of clothes?” 

Gabriel snorts from his seat and Lucifer levels a glare at him. 

“Don’t lie to me, Lucifer.” Chloe says sharply. 

“I’m a bit banged up, a bit thirsty, a bit naked, but no worse for wear. Really, I will be back to the regularly scheduled thorn in your side in no time.” he says cheerfully. 

“You better be. See you soon.” 

“I wait with bated breath.” he tells her and it comes out more honest than he intended. Chloe makes a scoffing noise in the back of her throat before hanging up on him. Lucifer lets the phone drop onto his chest and sighs. Gabriel gives him an expectant look, raised brows. 

“Oh, shut up.” Lucifer grouses. 

Gabriel puts his hands up, placating. “Hey man, I didn’t say nothing.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chloe gets the call a third of her way through her lunch break, brushing crumbs off her slacks. A young officer peeks her head in and spots her. “Detective Decker!” 

Chloe sets her sandwich down and quickly swallowed the bite she had taken. “What is it?” she asks as soon as she can, hope blossoming under her sternum. 

“There’s a call for you on line one. It’s a Deputy Morgan from Baker calling for you. He says it’s about Lucifer? It seems they've found him.” the cop reports, but Chloe is already out of her seat and is halfway across the room before the other woman has even finished speaking. 

What the hell was he doing out in 

She does not sprint to her desk, she does _not_. She, however, walks _very_ quickly to where the phone sits and snatches it up.

“This is Detective Decker.”

“Ah, yes. Hello, Detective. I’m Deputy Morgan with the San Bernardino County Sheriff's Office. I’m out here in Baker, we have located a one Lucifer Morningstar?” the deputy says with just the proper amount of skepticality pronounced over Lucifer’s name. “I saw you issued the BOLO. He says that you two work together.”

“Yes, we do. He’s a civilian consultant with the department. Is he alright?”

“Well, he was found this morning on the side of the road by a local. Looks to have been out on the Preserve for a few days. He was pretty dehydrated, suffering from heat exhaustion, sun and windburn. Remembers nothing beyond being knocked upside the head. But other than that, seems in relative good health. We’ve got him checked into Medical Services, he’s cognizant and holding down fluids, so he should be just dandy.”

A weight lifts off of her shoulders and she can breath easier. “Can I talk to him? Please?” she asks, trying to keep her voice patient, but probably failing.

“Of course, ma’am.” the deputy graciously says nothing of her tone. There’s a stretch of silence and then -

“Detective!” The greeting rings loud and bright in her ear, and it’s just so _Lucifer_. Relief floods through her, sweeping away at her defenses and it leaves her feeling empty and distraught. She must make some noise because Lucifer asks, “Detective? Are you quite alright?” sounding uncharacteristically tentative. 

“You stay _right_ where you are, Lucifer Morningstar.” she hisses at him, suddenly and absolutely furious with him. “You hear me? I'm coming to get you, okay? You do _not_ leave that Med Center.” The phone creaks in her grip.

“I - yes, of course, Detective. I shan’t move an inch.” he promises and she believes him. 

“But you’re okay?” she asks, just to be sure. 

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine.” Lucifer says in that easy, slick tone. “Well, except for the fact that my wardrobe seems to have absconded. Could I trouble you to bring me a change of clothes?”

“Don’t lie to me, Lucifer.” Chloe says sharply. 

“I’m a bit banged up, a bit thirsty, a bit naked, but no worse for wear. Really, I will be back to the regularly scheduled thorn in your side in no time.” he says in that annoyingly cheerful manner of his. She can practically see the grin on his face. 

“You better be. See you soon.” she tells him, her voice gentling.

“I wait with bated breath.” he tells her and it stuns her for a moment, because it sounds like he really means that. Unable to fully process that, she makes a noise in the back of her throat and hangs up on him. 

She’ll have to swing by Lux and grab him some clothes, otherwise she’ll have to put up with him whining about it the whole time. She’s got preparations to make for the drive out to Baker, but nothing it going to stop her from getting to him. 

She’s so preoccupied that she doesn’t see the softly glowing eyes watching her leave the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are moving! Chloe is on her way to get her man :P Just for fun I mentally picture Gabriel as Michael Peña a la Luis in Antman with a dash of Maes Hughes from FMA, just loves talking bout his baby girl.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe goes to retrieve LA's resident devil and Lucifer does a Good Deed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick thanks to all you readers - your clicks, your comments, your kudos, mean the absolute WORLD. Thank you for all the support <3

“So, your girl is on her way to get you?” Gabriel asks with pretend nonchalance. 

Lucifer contemplates correcting the assumption, but doesn’t feel like making the effort. “Yes.” he shifts a bit in his bed, trying to get comfortable. “She’s coming from LA.”

“It’s about a three hour drive from there to Baker.” Gabriel muses. 

“Knowing her, she’ll make it in two.” Lucifer makes a low chuckle. “She can be quite the rule breaker when it suits her. In fact, when she puts her mind to it, speed demons have nothing on her.”

“I’ll leave you in her good hands, then.” Gabriel says with a smile, standing. “I’m glad you’re okay, man.” he says, reaching over to shake Lucifer’s hand.

Lucifer pulls his grip tight as Gabriel tries to release him. “We made a deal, Gabriel.” he says, low and serious, eyes boring into the other man. “I won’t forget it.” and he lets Gabriel pull away.

“Right,” Gabriel says, a little shaken. “I’ll be going then. See you around.” he says and scuttles quickly to the door.

Lucifer watches him go and hums thoughtfully. After a few minutes have passed Lucifer calls for Deputy Morgan, the man meandering in. “Can I help you, Mister Morningstar?”

“Yes, I believe you can. The man who found me, Gabriel.” Lucifer starts, “What’s his full name? I’d like to know who’s responsible for saving my life so I can thank him properly.”

The deputy seems a bit surprised at Lucifer’s query, or perhaps the generosity Lucifer is implying.

“Santos.” the Deputy says with humor. “Gabriel Santos.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Of course it is.”

The older man harrumphs a laugh. 

“So what’s his story?” Lucifer asks. 

Deputy Morgan settles back in his chair, hands folding over his stomach. “Well, now. He grew up here in Baker, was a little bit of a troublemaker in his youth, but straightened himself out. Even volunteers down at the station now and again. Spends most of his days in Barstow now.”

“Because of his offspring.” Lucifer concludes.

Deputy Morgan smiles a bit at that, mustache curving. “Yeah, loves her to death, he does. Never shuts up about how adorable she is, but I can’t really blame him.” The deputy’s smile fades. “Don’t know what he’ll do if she doesn’t pull through.”

“What do you mean?” Lucifer asks, voice sharper than it needs to be if he wants his charm to pull the answer, but Morgan seems content enough to tell the story without supernatural prompting.

“He and Isabelle have been having...difficulties. Medical bills, emotional exhaustion. It’s not unexpected when a child is sick.”

“You sound as though you speak from experience.” Lucifer notes.

Morgan nods. “Lost my boy in a car accident out on I-15. It’s not the same thing, but it changed everything for my wife and I. In the end, our marriage couldn’t survive it.”

“I’m sorry.” Lucifer says, eyes lowered. He remembers the way the Heavens would rumble and crash with his parents fought, yelling loud enough for all his children to hear. And now with the death of Uriel. He wonders how they’re coping, if they’re coping. At least Mum is free of his Father's manipulations. 

Jim Morgan sighs, leaning forward. “It was a long time ago, son. We all just have to do the best we can.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, but it’s not overly awkward, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Lucifer is just starting to get a bit drowsy when Deputy Morgan gets to his feet. 

“I'll let you rest a bit, but I'll be outside if you need anything. Your Detective Decker will be here for you in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Deputy.” Lucifer says. 

The man dips his head in acknowledgement. “Just doing my job, son. Just doing my job.”

Lucifer closes his eyes and can feel his wounds start to slowly, oh so slowly, begin to heal. He dozes off to the sensation of his flagging energy reserves gradually filling with divine power. He wakes about an hour later feeling enormously better and his energy returning more steadily. 

That and he has the urge to pee something terrible. He takes care of that pressing matter and returns to his bed, wincing every time his feet touched the floor. 

A nurse bustles in his room, and he chats with her idly as she goes about checking things. She deems it no longer necessary to keep in the IV as long as he keeps drinking fluids. 

The needle in his arm is just beginning to itch with healing when she removes it, sealing a piece of gauze with tape over it before she can realize there was no welling blood and the skin had sealed over perfectly. Rest seemed to aid his returning angelic powers the most, and with nothing else to preoccupy his attention, he lets himself drift off once again. 

It wakes him when Detective Decker comes into range. She's still a little ways out, but he feels the abrupt halt in the crawl of his energy, but also the sudden influence of the chemicals in his system taking effect. 

“Oh, that’s lovely.” he murmurs to himself, wiggling his toes. He closes his eyes until he hears noises from the front. Then there's a knock at his door and it opens to reveal Chloe's face.

“Detective!” he greets warmly, smile stretching his face. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Lucifer.” she says and he detects a note of relief in her voice. “You absolute devil.” 

“Guilty as charged.” he says pleased. He sobers as she comes closer, standing at his bedside. “Chloe, about why I called -” he starts. 

“No, no, Lucifer, it doesn’t matter.” she hushes him. 

“But, it -!” he protests.

“What’s important is that you’re _safe_. We’ll have plenty of time to talk about all the rest of it later, okay?” She grips his hand tightly. “You really worried me.” she says more quietly. 

“My sincerest apologies, Detective.” he says automatically, his eyes suddenly far away. He's taken so long to gather the courage to tell her, that now, bereft of the opportunity to do so, he’s not quite sure how he feels. “I’ll endeavor not to be kidnapped and dumped in the desert in the future.” he says, plastering on a smile. 

The doctor knocks and steps inside, distracting them both. “Well, Mr. Morningstar, everything is looking good. Keep drinking plenty of fluids, stay out of the heat, and don’t try doing anything requiring exertion for at least a week. Otherwise, you’re free to be released.”

“Wonderful! Thank you, Doctor.” Lucifer tells the man sincerely. The man gets the typical stunned look humans get when he focuses his attention on them and leaves the room a little flustered.

“Dan’s got your clothes, if you want to change.” Chloe says. 

“Oh, yes. Many thanks, Detective.” he says, sitting up. “Did you happen to bring shoes?”

Chloe winces. Seeing her expression and correctly interpreting it as negative Lucifer makes a low aggrieved noise. 

“Sorry.” Chloe apologies. 

“No, it’s quite alright. I think I can manage to the car.” 

Lucifer quickly changes into clean clothes in the privacy of the bathroom, something that bemuses Chloe. He’s never been shy before. Perhaps it’s Dan’s presence, or maybe he’s self conscious of the wounds dappled across his skin. 

Lucifer insists on eschewing the use of a wheelchair, taking ginger steps with Chloe bracing his forearm. Dan has finished collecting the statements and information from Deputy Morgan and hovers awkwardly nearby, ready to assist if needed. 

“I’ve pulled the car up front.” Dan tells him, and darts forward to get the door for him. 

It’s something fancier than a patrol car, a vehicle with a proper back seat so Dan isn’t reduced to sitting behind a cage wall. It’s obviously police issue, though, a black SUV of some sort. He wonders how Chloe managed to swing that. 

Lucifer carefully fits himself in the passenger side, sinking into the soft leather. He makes a small, relieved noise at no longer putting his weight on his feet and then Chloe is starting the car and driving out. 

They pass the incredibly oversized thermometer that dominates the town’s skyline. 

“World’s tallest thermometer.” Dan says as they pass it. 

“Not a very accurate one.” Lucifer remarks, seeing the red far higher than it should be. 

“It displays the highest temperature recorded at Death Valley.” Chloe explains. Seeing Lucifer’s still exhausted state, she adds. “You can get some rest, if you’re still tired.” 

Pain might be a novel experience for him, but he finds himself rather annoyed by it and sleep is an easy respite from it. “I might do just that.” he says and eventually dozes to the sound of good-natured bickering from the two other occupants. He wakes up when they stop for gas. 

“Where are we?” Lucifer asks, feeling like his mouth is full of dirt and his feet and head are throbbing constantly. 

“We’re in Barstow, still about two hours to go.” Dan replies. 

“Barstow.” Lucifer repeats slowly. “Is there a hospital near by?”

“Why? You feeling okay?” Chloe asks from where she's leaning on the outside of the car, watching the gasoline numbers change. 

“I feel just fine, there’s just something I need to do there.” 

Dan scoffs. “What could you possibly need to do -” 

“Will you take me there or not?” Lucifer interrupts. “If not, I’ll get out and walk.” he says tersely. 

Dan subsides with a gritted jaw. 

“We can make a stop, Lucifer.” Chloe placates. “It’s not a problem.” It’s only a few minutes out of their way and Lucifer is being strangely insistent about it. She refuses to let him walk from the parking garage and drops him off at the front entrance. He urges they stay in the car. 

“It shouldn’t take long.” he says as he refuses another offer of help. “I’ll be right back.” And he hobbles towards the automatic doors. 

“What is he up to?” Dan asks Chloe as they watch him make his way on bandaged feet. 

“I have no idea.” Chloe replies. 

*~*~*~*~*~

“Ah! Hello, there.” Lucifer greets the older woman at the desk. Her eyes flick up to him briefly and then she makes a double take. Lucifer gives her his most charming grin and she pats at her hair. 

“What can I help you with, handsome?” she asks, smiling at him mischievously. Lucifer finds himself captivated despite himself. He senses a kindred spirit. 

“While I would love to stay and chat with such a lovely woman as yourself, unfortunately I am detained by a previous engagement. I’m here to visit Maria Santos. Could you be a dear and tell me what room she’s in?” 

While the playful air disappears from her countenance, it's placed by warmth. “Ah, Maria is such a wonderful child. Very bright. She's on the second level, room 202.” 

Lucifer takes the woman's hand, the skin soft and delicate with age, and places a kiss, looking up at her through his lashes. A blush paints her cheeks and her free hand presses to her chest.

“Thank you, my dear. You've been most helpful.” he says. 

She flaps a hand at him. “Oh, you rogue.”

He snatches up a flower from a display of bouquets and proceeds towards the elevators. It’s a quick ride and then he’s turning the corner towards 202. He can hear voices as he nears and when they suddenly get louder, he ducks into the patient room beside it, which is thankfully empty. 

Lucifer can hear Gabriel’s voice. “I don’t understand.”

“Mr. Santos, if I could just speak to you _outside_ -” responds a harried sounding voice. 

“Honey, please - just, let’s just go with Doctor Phillip." comes a feminine voice. 

“Okay, _okay_!” 

Lucifer watches as Gabriel, and what must be his wife, follow a slightly stressed looking Doctor out of the patient room and towards a waiting room. Lucifer waits until they go inside before darting around the wall and into Maria’s room. 

The girl looks up at him, surprised. She looks small in her hospital bed, bird thin collar bones and a scalp clean of hair. Her breathing sounds labored as the oxygen tube whistles underneath her nose. But her eyes are lively even as they narrow in suspicion at him.

“You’re not Doctor Phillip.” she accuses.

“Ah, no. I’m not. But I _am_ here to see you.” Lucifer says, stepping further inside.

“Daddy says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.” And then she heaves in a great breath, no doubt with the intention of screaming.

Lucifer darts forward, hand outstretched. “No, no, no, no!” he urges frantically. “Don’t scream, _please_.” 

The girl relents, pouting over the fact she didn’t get to enjoy the novel experience of screaming for one’s life at the top of her lungs. “Why not?” she asks, still wary. 

“Because...because I’m an angel.” he settles on, lamely. 

“Prove it.” Maria requests, little chin poking out defiantly. Lucifer rolls his eyes. Father save him from precocious children. 

With a sigh, Lucifer pulls his wings into the physical plane and there’s a sudden hiss of noise as grains of sand falls from his feathers to the floor. Lucifer frowns at his wings and gives them a shake, freeing a cloud of dust and more sand to rattle against the tiles. Maria giggles. Surprised to have elicited such a reaction, Lucifer’s head jerks upright, staring at the girl in surprise. 

“Well,” he sniffs, “You try flying through the desert without getting sand in your feathers.” he replies, miffed. His wings fold elegantly against his back and he steps around Maria’s bed. He pauses to place the single flower on a bedside table. 

“You’ll need to give them a bath.” Maria tells him, seriously. “And wash behind your ears.” 

“Yes, I’ll be sure to do that.” he tells her as he settles into a nearby chair, hanging his wings over the back. “Your dad found me in the desert, you know. Saved my life. So, I owe him a favor.” 

“Like a genie?” Maria asks.

Lucifer crinkles his nose in distaste, but concedes. “Yes, a bit." He leans forward. “I asked him what he wanted most in the whole, wide world. And do you know what he said?” 

Maria shakes her head back and forth, nearly jarring loose the wires and tubes attached to her. 

“He said he wanted you to get better. So here I am.” He claps his hands on his thighs. 

“You’re gonna help me get better?” she whispers hopefully.

“Yes, I am.” he replies and carefully places his hands around her face, fingers settling along the delicate curve of her skull. 

He peers into her with senses humans couldn’t begin to understand, seeing into the collection of organs and nerves that make up Maria Lucia Santos and searches. _Maria_ , meaning bitterness, but also a wished for child. _Lucia_ , meaning light. They have that in common. 

He finds it, the aberration of cells, the bad code, how it flows and floods through her body. Overtaking, consuming.

He must be so careful; this tiny, fragile human that lies so still under his hands is counting on him. Then he reaches for it and corrects it. The cells snap into proper shape and something in Lucifer sings with rightness, wings unconsciously flaring out behind him. 

_Yes_ , this is how it is supposed to be, this is the form she is supposed to take. He feels the energy drain out of him, leaving him feeling oddly shaky. 

Maria gasps softly and Lucifer comes back to himself. A tear falls from one of Maria's eyes and he wipes it away with his thumb. 

“There, there, child.” he says. “Now, you mustn't tell anyone I was here.” 

Maria nods seriously, her own hands coming up to rub at her eyes. 

“Not a soul, you understand? It will be our little secret.” he tells her with the sternest eyebrows he can manage. 

“I understand.” she parrots back. 

He stands. “I must go now.” 

“To help more people?” she asks. “Daddy says angels help people.”

“Yes,” he says. “And to punish those who do bad things.” 

Maria nods, as this seems fair and important in the way her father speaks of angels, hushed and reverent. “Goodbye, Mister Angel.” she says. “Thank you for making me better.” she says with the rote manners of the young. 

“You’re most welcome, my dear.” he says, pulling his wings back into the spiritual plane. Though, now that he's aware of it, he can feel the itchy grains of sand still trapped. He rolls his shoulders and forces himself to ignore it. He'll have time to deal with it later. 

He walks to the doorway and peers out, checking to see if the coast is clear. Free of angry parents or nosy nurses, Lucifer quickly takes his leave. Now, down to billing. He manages to convince a nurse that he’s being quite serious, hands over his credit card information and signs a flurry of paperwork and now the Santos’ won't have to worry about paying a cent. 

His job thoroughly completed, he heads back towards the entrance. He spares a few flirtatious words with the woman at the front desk as he leaves, but soon he’s limping his way towards where the Detective waits. 

“Did what you needed to do?” Chloe asks as she steers them out of the parking lane. 

“Yes, I find I’m quite pleased with how things turned out.”

“You’re seriously not going to explain what we're doing here?” Dan asks with disbelief. 

“Well, not with that attitude I’m not. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners, Daniel? Or were you raised in a barn?” Lucifer chides. 

Dan scoffs and folds his arms, petulant. 

“I have a brother that was raised in a barn, you know.” Lucifer tells Dan. “And even _he_ managed to get the knack of social niceties after a decade or so. You really ought to put some effort into it. I’m sure someone with your determination can get there...eventually.” 

Lucifer continues to tease, he’s even made Chloe smile at his needling. Dan seems to be suppressing his own amusement except for the curl of his mouth. 

“It’s good to have you back.” she says to him quietly. 

“Why, Detective.” Lucifer says a bit smugly as he settles deeper into his seat and closes his eyes. “One would almost think you missed me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Lucifer, what are we going to do with you. Hope you guys enjoyed the fluff!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer recovers from his ordeal in the desert and is king of bad timing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, thank you again, readers, for being patient. Hopefully the delay will be made up by the fact this is the longest chapter yet?
> 
> Second! You guys are amazing! Thank you again for all the wonderful comments and kudos! Infinitely Gentle is currently on page 7 (biblical number of perfection anyone? eh?) out of 69 (<-Lucifer would be so proud) when filtered by kudos, which is incredible! Way to go you!

Maze is waiting for them at Lux when they arrive, watching in horror as Lucifer limps in, trying to make his footsteps as light as possible. Chloe walks beside him, ready to offer assistance if needed. He pauses at the entrance to stare mournfully at the empty space his piano had been. Someone must have removed the crushed remains and swept the floor, but it’s absence is still jarring. 

“What happened?” Maze barks, striding forward. Concern is more easily expressed as fury for her. 

“Maze, darling. It’s wonderful to see you." Lucifer says completely sincerely and that seems to alarm Maze the most. She wraps her arms around him, ignoring his squawk of “ _Careful_!” And lifts him from off his feet. She carries him over to the circular booth and sets him down. 

“Yes, thank you, Maze.” Lucifer says snippily, but there is humor underlying his voice. He takes a seat with a quiet groan and no one likes the slight pallor he’s acquired. 

“Who did this?” Maze asks in the most dire of tones. 

“I’m afraid I have no idea.” he says, rather annoyed by that fact. “Although it had to have been someone with a good amount of force behind them. I have a very thick skull, you know.” 

Maze’s brow furrows as she thinks. She glances over at Chloe, but instantly dismisses that possibility as they were both in the apartment together with Trixie. She briefly considers Amenadiel, but he had been relatively amicable with his brother lately. The only kind of being that could knock Lucifer out like that would have to be a fellow angel. A new player in the game. Maze puts it together and hisses. 

Lucifer hums in agreement. 

“When I find them, I will -” she halts suddenly as she realizes there are two members of the police department listening very closely to her. “- be _very upset_.” she finishes through gritted teeth. 

Lucifer huffs a tired laugh. “You’re more than welcome to be as _very upset_ with them as you like. You have my blessing.” 

“Right, let’s get you to bed.” Chloe says firmly, both to end the possibly incriminating conversation and to get Lucifer to rest. 

Maze goes to carry him again, but Lucifer holds up a preventing hand. “I will walk, thank you.” He does accept Maze’s help pulling him to his feet and slowly makes his way across the floor and up the steps. If he’s breathing a bit heavier by the time they all shuffle into the elevator, no one mentions it. His apartment’s stone mural wall still has a gaping hole in it, but like Lux downstairs, all the debris has been cleared away. 

He stumbles up the stone steps toward his bed and gracelessly face plants into it, struggling out of his suit jacket to toss it to the floor.

Dan walks over and touches Chloe’s elbow. “Hey, I gotta get back. You’ll be okay here?” he asks.

Chloe nods. “Yeah, I just want to stay with him for a while. Make sure he’s okay.”

Dan smiles understandingly and ducks his head. “Sure thing.” He angles towards where Lucifer is sleeping and, unable to help himself, shouts, “See ya, Lucifer!” He gets a smothered but distinct noise of aggravation from Lucifer in response and grins. Dan nods his head cordially at Maze as he goes. She watches him with calculating, but amused eyes, which is about as friendly as Maze gets. 

“No need to stand on ceremony, Detective.” Lucifer says, voice muffled from how he’s speaking into the pillow. He pats the side of his bed without moving anything else. As if he can sense her doubt - and who knows, maybe he can - he adds, “It’s not like you haven’t been in my bed before.”

Maze makes a snorting noise from where she’s meandering by the bar. Chloe let’s out a measured breath through her nose and mentally counts to three.

“I’ll leave you in Decker’s,” Maze pauses to hiss air through her teeth and send Chloe a lecherous look. “ _Capable_ hands.”

Lucifer says something in a language she’s never heard before, but Maze must understand, because she barks a laugh and tosses a finger wave while batting her eyelashes. Chloe watches the elevator doors close. 

“She’s a menace.” Chloe says, but not without fondness.

“Demon.” Lucifer says as if that explains it all, and Chloe can just see the curve of his mouth from where it’s hidden away by the edge of the pillow. He yawns and snuggles deeper into the bed and Chloe can’t help but think it’s adorable. 

Relenting to his earlier request, she toes off her shoes and deposits her police memorabilia on the bar top. Lucifer has his eyes closed and Chloe thinks she probably should have brought a book. Casting her eyes around his room she contemplates borrowing one from his shelves. 

A lot of the books are old - very old - and in a dozen different languages. She recognizes latin and french and italian. There are books in what she thinks must be arabic, quite a few in greek and hebrew. There’s religious texts, obviously, and philosophy. Chloe spies the Kama Sutra and rolls her eyes. There seem to be quite a few books on criminology that are distinct in their newness, slick paperbacks looking incongruous amongst the aged books around them. She spots a novel, _Stardust_ , and carefully pulls it out from the others.

She walks up to the side of the bed Lucifer is hogging less and slowly settles down onto it, bracing her back against the headboard. She can’t help but reach over and thread her fingers through his hair, somehow still gritty with sand. Lucifer hums but doesn’t make any movement, letting out a slow breath in peacefulness. Chloe smiles and then turns her attention to her book, idly running her nails along his scalp. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~

Yvaine has just made her escape on a Unicorn in the book when Lucifer wakes. Chloe puts a finger in between the pages to hold her place and looks over at him. He shifts a bit and his eyes flutter open, chocolate and mesmerizing. She thinks it might be the most beautiful thing she’s seen. A slow smile softens his sharp features as he gazes up at her. 

“Hello there, Detective.” he says, voice gravelly in a way that sends a shiver down her spine. The effect is ruined when his stomach growls. She laughs under her breath. 

“Hungry?” she asks with a grin. 

“Absolutely _famished_.” he replies. He rolls over on his back and stretches. She can’t help but follow the line of his body where his shirt pulls tight. He falls into loose limbed relaxation looking smug and seductive. Chloe glances away and clears her throat. 

“For food.” Chloe clarifies. Her voice is deadpan, but her expression amused. 

“Oh, very well.” he acquiesces - sooner than she expected, so he really must be hungry. It was past lunchtime and he hadn’t had anything to eat since he had scarfed down the hospital food in Baker. 

Chloe orders soup for delivery and makes Lucifer drink another two glasses of water, watching with mother-sharp eyes. He excuses himself to the bathroom and the soup arrives while he’s occupied. 

Chloe spreads out their meals in the lounge area and Lucifer divides out the silverware. Lucifer takes a cautious sip of his chicken noodle, a soup Chloe had insisted on as human tradition when ill, and makes a small pleased noise. It really is quite good. Chloe is dipping her breadstick in her soup and munching happily. 

They eat together in companionable quiet, both preoccupied with their own thoughts. 

“How do you like the book?” Lucifer asks, breaking the silence. 

“It’s...interesting. I’m enjoying it so far.” she says before taking a spoonful of soup. 

Lucifer nods. “It’s sweet and tragic in turns.”

“It doesn’t seem like a book I would have expected to find on your shelves.” she admits. 

Lucifer seems amused by the statement, eyes sparkling. “I have eclectic tastes. Besides, I’m fond of the author’s work. Feel free to borrow it, if you like, Detective.” 

“Thank you, I think I will.”

Mustering up boldness, Lucifer takes a breath and launches forward. “Chloe, what I wanted to talk to you abo-”

He’s cut off by Chloe’s phone ringing and has to shove down the irrational surge of anger that courses through his veins and makes the plastic spoon in his hand crack. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I have to take this.” Her whole body language apologetic. 

Lucifer sighs, but nods. 

“Detective Decker. Yes.” she pauses, listening to the other end. He could easily listen in if he wanted to but he doesn’t bother. “Yes. I see, yeah. Okay, I’ll be there.” She hangs up and looks up at him with mournful eyes. “They need me back at the station.”

“I see.” Lucifer says, abruptly withdrawn. “Then you must go.” 

“I’m really sorry about this, Lucifer.” she starts in. 

He holds a stopping hand up. “No need to apologize. You’re a detective.” he says with a lopsided smile. “Go, detect.” 

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” she says, standing and gathering her leftovers. She snatches up the rest of her things from the bar countertop and slips her shoes on. 

“Keep drinking fluids.” she tells him as she gets her things secured on her person. “Try and rest as much as you can. I’ll check up on you later.”

“I’ll be _fine_ , Detective.” he says, sounding like Trixie when Chloe reminds her of the safety checklist. He waves a shooing hand at her and she snorts at him before heading towards the elevator. She points a finger at him and gives him her perfected Mom Look. 

“Be good.”

The doors close on him giving her his most innocent expression, dark eyes and small smile. She doesn’t buy it for a minute. Still, duty calls and someone’s got to do it. 

Lucifer lets out a breath once the detective is gone and proceeds to get slowly to his feet. _Shower first_ , he thinks and makes his way to the master bath, stripping off his clothes as he goes. He struggles with the shirt, his shoulder and back muscles are sore beyond belief with the strain of flying after so long. He finally wrangles out of it and kicks off his trousers, ignoring how the action make his feet ache sharply. Divesting himself of the rest of it, including his many bandages, as he reaches the bathroom, he cranks the water has hot as he can stand it. He ducks into the shower, the water stinging the sunburns and cuts littered across his body. 

The water swirling toward the drain is dark with dried blood and dirt. Lucifer scrubs the sand from his hair and tilts his face into the spray. He’d wash his wings too, but, while his bathroom is luxurious, it’s not quite large enough for that. It will have to wait. 

He can feel when Chloe is far enough away to no longer act as a dampener because the lacerations and burns begin to scab over and his feet quit their endless throbbing. He soaps himself down, washing away the sweat and grime and then remains under the water, letting it relax the muscles. The phantom prickle of grains stuck in his feathers begins to persist so Lucifer shuts the water off and pads naked out to the terrace, trailing puddles behind him. 

He walks over to the hot tub and materializes his wings. He shakes them out, scattering as much debris as he can before stepping into the warm water and submerging them in a rush of bubbles. Lucifer settles down and rests his head against the warm concrete edge and goes pliant. He lets the jets do all the work cleaning off his feathers, maneuvering them every now and again for optimal cleanliness, creating a fine layer of sand to settle on the bottom.

He lounges for a while before deciding it was enough and begins to haul his waterlogged wings free. He gets to his feet, wings spread and curved forward to prevent him from toppling over backwards and beats them hard, stirring up the wind and scattering water droplets everywhere. 

He retrieves his robe, and heads back out to the terrace to lie out in the sun, covering himself with the silky material while spreading his feathers, letting his wings dry naturally. He won’t stay out too long, he’s had quite enough of sunshine lately, but damp feathers aren’t any fun either. 

Once they’re dry enough he folds them along his spine and goes to get dressed. His phone has a few texts from Chloe complaining about her case. It’s apparently open and shut and she’s unhappily going to be dealing with more paperwork than crime solving. How dreadful. It will be hours before she’s free. 

The sun is just beginning to set and Lucifer has arrangements to make down at Lux. He vanishes his wings and finishes getting dressed, down to the cufflinks. He makes his way downstairs to employees grateful to have him back. He makes the rounds, smiling and reassuring and making sure things have been running smoothly. 

Everything is set and he has nothing more to do than supervise. Patrick arrives and takes his customary place behind the bar with a pleased look. 

“Lucifer! You’re back! We were worried sick.” he says and Lucifer knows the man is genuine. Patrick doesn’t have a malicious bone in his body. 

“Yes, but I hear I have you to thank for things continuing in my absence.” Lucifer praises.

Patrick blushes. “It was nothing. Maze would have been by to help, but she’s been spending her free time at the hospital with Linda.”

Right. Linda, another whom he is indebted to. He’ll have to do something about that. 

“Ah, yes. I haven’t been told of the Doctor’s condition. Any news?” Lucifer queries. 

“I haven’t heard anything, but it might be a case of no news is good news.” Patrick replies. 

Lucifer hums. If he can heal a very sick little girl with his energy reserves nearly as low as they can go, he should have no problem fixing the good doctor right up now that he’s nearly back to normal. 

“You know, I think I’ll go out tonight. You’ve been doing such a magnificent job I wouldn’t want to interfere.” he smiles and winks to put off Patrick’s insistence that there was no need for Lucifer to leave. “I’ve missed the city, think I’ll have a look around, stretch my legs out a bit.” he muses. 

“Sounds fine, sir.” Patrick nods with an easy grin. 

Lucifer leaves the club, giving a jaunty wave to the young ladies already starting to queue up in front of the entrance. They giggle and wave in return and he strolls away, enjoying the cool night breeze. He turns a few corners, idly walking slightly closer to the hospital before finding an alley away from prying eyes.

He pulls his wings out and spreads them before flapping them hard enough to launch himself in the air. He catches a pocket of hot air emanating from the warm pavement below and lets it carry him up. He soars, flapping every now and again, but making good time towards the hospital, the stars above him lighting the way. 

He spies the section off roof with an access door and swoops low, letting his momentum fade organically, the toes of his shoes scraping before he touches down and jogs forward, slowing. He walks over to the door and lets his hand rest on the handle and let’s his innate gifts do their thing. There are no locked doors for the Devil. He hears the deadbolt slide free. He pulls the door open and proceeds inside. 

He knows exactly where Linda’s room is and starts walking. The hospital is fairly quiet at the moment, caught in the lag of patients that occurs between the evening cases being settled but before the last night mishaps make their way to the front doors. He opens Linda’s rooms to see her lying down, sleeping. The only noise the beeping on the monitors. Lucifer pauses for a moment, just taking her in. The bandages, the casts. 

Linda may wish to deny it, but really, what was done to her _is_ his fault. She's only a mortal, a good hearted one at that. She shouldn't have been expected to deal with the terrible things that he has wrought. But, that was the beauty of free will, wasn't it? She was allowed to choose, had the right to make that decision. Father's little experiment. 

Who was he, the poster child of free will and the ability to make poor decisions that comes along with it, deny her that? Still, that didn't mean he couldn't do something kind for her, something not asked of him, not done in repayment or holding up his end of a deal. But for her, for Linda. Because he can, because he wants to. 

If he didn’t know better, one would think Linda was simply lying in bed, her face slack and peaceful, hair spread out around her. Thinking it best not to wake her, he walks quietly up to the edge of the hospital bed, leans over, and pulls on his angelic power. He gently touches her cheek and places a kiss on her forehead. 

“Be made well.” he murmurs, feeling the power wash out of him and through Linda, healing and restoring the burns and wounds, flesh mending back together. Linda makes a small noise, her nose scrunching up adorably and Lucifer wonders if she might wake, but she only shifts and settles into a deeper sleep without pain. Lucifer smiles down at her and then carefully sees himself out.

With nothing further to occupy his time Lucifer thinks he’ll enjoy a peaceful night time flight, he might as well before he has Maze chop them off again. He proceeds back to the roof feeling rather pleased with himself, but also that he's had his fill of hospitals today. He exits out the access door and bounces on his toes before sprinting and throwing himself off the edge of the building, snapping his wings out.

He works higher, feeling the burn deep in his muscles and then pulls his wings in tight, letting gravity take him, plummeting towards the ground. He flares his wings out, joints creaking in protest, just as he’s nearing the tops of LA’s buildings. He banks smoothly along the horizon before tucking one wing in for a barrel roll, laughing as he flirts with the sky. 

*~*~*~*~*~*

Chloe gets off work after closing the latest case and finishing the three hours of agonizing paperwork that followed. For a man caught red handed there was far too much bureaucracy involved in Chloe’s opinion. She’d texted Lucifer but hadn’t gotten a reply and figured she should swing by Lux and check on him. 

It’s late enough most of the traffic has abated and she makes it to the club in pretty good time, Lux is already lit up and packed with people. She rolls her eyes at the spectacle, but shouldn’t have expected any different. She parks around back where Lucifer has a spot set aside just for her and walks around to the front. James is the bouncer tonight and he gives her a flash of a smile before letting in her in, ignoring the complaints of those left waiting in line.

The dance floor is bursting with people and Chloe has to maneuver around more than one interested individual before she makes it to the stair case. She lets out a breath of relief upon making it to the elevator and hits the button for Lucifer’s floor. When she reaches it, it’s quite.

Unusual, for Lucifer. She pokes around and realizes that it’s empty and frowns. Where the devil had he gone? Had he been downstairs and she just missed him? She backtracks downstairs and works her way towards the bar.

“Patrick!” Chloe calls and the bartender in question saunters over, tossing a towel over his broad shoulder.

“Detective Decker!” he calls, voice raised to be heard over the music. He’s always pleased to see her. “What can I get for you?” 

“Is Lucifer here?” she asks instead of making a drink order.

“No, ma’am.” he answers. “He left about an hour ago, I think. Said he needed to stretch his legs?” 

“Of course he did.” Chloe says with exasperation. Still, Lucifer’s ability to constantly infuriate her is not Patrick’s fault and she gives him a commiserating smile. “Thanks.” 

He offers her a sympathetic look. “Not a problem, Detective.” 

Chloe turns and exits Lux, winding her way though the throng of dancers until she’s escaped to the quiet of the sidewalk outside. She dials Lucifer’s number. He picks up on nearly the last ring. 

“Detective! What can I do for you?” he answers the line sounding absolutely thrilled, an odd rushing noise in the background. 

“What are you doing out? You’re supposed to be home resting!” she hisses at him.

“I’ve been resting all afternoon!” he objects. “Besides, the doc said not to go out in the heat and the sun is down now. It’s as cool as a cucumber.”

“What are you even _doing_?” she asks, wincing as the noise increases and then quiets. 

“Why, I’m taking in the sights, Detective! Catching up on everything I missed while I was gone. Quite a lot can happen in a few days, you know.” 

The rushing gets louder again and Chloe can’t help but ask, “What is that noise?”

“Hm? Oh. Just enjoying the wind through my hair.” he says nonchalantly. 

“Are you driving? _Lucifer_! It’s illegal to be on your phone while driving!” Unbelievable. Speeding around in that Corvette was going to get him in real trouble one day. 

“Such a stickler, Detective. Fine then. Shall I be seeing you tomorrow?”

Chloe blinks in surprise. Was he planning on being out that late? “Uh, yeah, I can come over for lunch. How’s that sound?”

“Absolutely riveting, darling.” he says distractedly.

For a moment it seems like he’s not paying attention at all and Chloe narrows her eyes.

“Well, I must be off, Detective.” he says suddenly. “Talk to you later.” and he clicks off. Chloe is left staring at her phone in bewilderment. She sighs and heads back to her car to drive home. She’ll yell at him for not taking care of himself tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a _ton_ of action this chapter, but hopefully it was still enjoyable. The next chapter we will head into the casefic bit of this story line and that's exciting right? Plus, Lucifer healing Linda will have repercussions he never accounted for - stay tuned till next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer deals with some fallout from healing Linda and there's a murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday, everyone!
> 
> unbeta'd as always, all mistakes are mine (feel free to tell me if you see them!)

Professor Jerry Lowry looks up from his desk when there's a knock at his door. When he sees who it is, his face brightens.

"Come in, come in." He waves his guest inside. He busies himself searching amongst the papers scattered across his desk. "I had it right here, I swear."

"It's fine." comes the response. "There's no hurry."

His guest walks slowly over to where a few pictures hang framed on the wall. The people in the photo look happy, smiling. 

"This research has been instrumental in my latest article, you know." Jerry mumbles as he flips through his stacks of paper. 

His guest hums an noncommittal noise and meanders to the display of swords nearby. They reach out and run the tip of their finger along the edge. They close their hand around the hilt and carefully heft it aloft. It's heavy, but not too heavy.

Jerry digs around in a drawer and comes up victorious. "Ah ha! Here it is!" He catches sight of the sword in hand. "Woah, careful, there." the Professor cautions. "That thing can kill." 

They bring the sword to bear, pointed towards the Professor. "Yes," they say, "I know." 

*~*~*~*~*~

Lucifer sleeps in the next day, the deep, steady slumber of the exhausted. He had stayed out flying into the wee hours of the morning darting around the city in all his fine, feathered glory and watched the sunrise from the spire of his own building, a burst of beautiful pastels streaking the sky.

He wakes up slowly, stretching. His wings, still on his back, stretched as well, feathers brushing the walls, luxuriating in the sensation of well worked muscles. He walks over to where his phone lies, letting his wings trail across the ground behind him. There's nothing more from Chloe other than a perfunctory text reading: “STAY IN BED.” and a reminder that she would see him later for lunch. 

He vanishes his wings when he hears the elevator door ding and it’s a good thing he does, because it’s Amenadiel who steps out. 

“Brother.” Lucifer greets neutrally, not quite sure where they stand right now after recent events. 

“Lucifer.” Amenadiel breathes, relieved, walking purposefully forward. “You're alive.” and he sweeps his younger brother up in a crushing hug. Lucifer protests the contact nearly immediately, using his greater strength to wedge Amenadiel away. 

“That's quite enough, thank you.” Lucifer growls and Amenadiel allows himself to be pushed away. 

“Maze and I tried to track you down, but neither of us could get any further than the hospital. What happened?” Amenadiel appears genuinely worried. 

“I was brained with a tire iron and then left abandoned in the desert. What do you think happened?” he retorts.

“Who would do such a thing?” Amenadiel wonders. “Who _could_ do such a thing?”

“I prefer not to think too deeply on it.” Lucifer says, voice low. Bloody hell, he needed a cigarette. 

“And what of mother? What happened on the pier?”

Amenadiel had inquired of the detectives, but their narratives had been patchy and ultimately unhelpful. Lucifer stalls by looking for a discarded cigarette box, putting his back deliberately to his annoying brethren. 

“Lucifer.” Amenadiel says warningly. Lucifer finds the box tucked under a candle on a chairside table and makes a show of opening the carton and sticking one in his mouth. 

“I - I may have used the flaming sword to slice a rift in the universe.” he finally says.

“You _what!”_ Amenadiel shouts. “Luci, you could have set off a chain of events that would have destroyed -”

“Yes, I _know_.” Lucifer cuts him off. “I was _careful_.” 

Amenadiel gapes at him, lost for words at the catastrophic annihilation that had nearly been brought upon them. Lucifer calmly lights up and takes a long drag, filling his lungs with chemicals and heat. He breathes it out in a slow stream.

“It wouldn’t have been possible if not for you, Amenadiel. I wouldn’t have had enough time.” Lucifer says, refusing to look over. “You saved everyone.”

Amenadiel smiles, reading between the lines to see Lucifer's gratitude even if he's too proud to verbalize it. The realization of what all of it must mean, the rift, mom missing, sinks down for Amenadiel and his expression sobers. “She went, then?” he asks while already knowing the answer. 

Lucifer exhales smoke. “She did.”

“So we will never see her again.” Amenadiel concludes, saddened. He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

“Well, I wouldn't say that.” Lucifer flicks the ash from his cigarette. “She's a nearly all-powerful Goddess. It would be foolish to count her out for good.”

Amenadiel sighs weightily. He's about to make some reproachful comment when Lucifer's phone rings, preventing him. Lucifer, recognizing an escape route when he hears it, nearly dives for the phone. It's Maze. 

“Maze, darling, I am _so_ glad to hear from you.”

Amenadiel rolls his eyes in the background and Lucifer sticks a hand up to block the view of it. 

“Lucifer, I need you to get to the hospital _right now_.” she says, her voice shaken in a way he has only heard maybe twice in all their years together. 

“What’s happened?” he asks in his most commanding of tones, already grabbing his clothes. Amenadiel rushes closer in concern and is able to overhear Maze’s next words

“It's Linda, she's been _healed_.”

Lucifer is spared having to feign surprise by Amenadiel’s loud “ _What!”_

“Don't worry, Mazikeen, I’ll be right there.” he tells her pulling on his trousers from last night, wrinkled and a little dirty, but serviceable enough. “Stay with Linda.” and he hangs up. 

He silently curses himself. He should have thought the consequences of healing Linda through a bit more, but he’d been so elated, almost buoyant with the sudden influx of power and the ability to soar unhindered. It’s rendered him even more impulsive and fallible than usual. 

Amenadiel, looking like someone had clobbered him over the head having so many shocks in a row, abruptly furrows into determination. “I’m coming, too.”

Lucifer contemplates arguing with him as he retreats into his closet to find a clean shirt, but doesn't bother with the effort. He buttons it as quickly as he can and tosses on a jacket, stuffing his car keys in the pocket. Good enough. 

“If you must.” Lucifer says dismissively as he comes out of the closet, snagging a pair of socks in one hand and his shoes in the other. He heads toward the elevator, Amenadiel following along in his wake. 

“What did Maze mean Linda has been healed?” Amenadiel asks aloud as Lucifer leans against the elevator wall to tug his socks on. 

“How would I know?” Lucifer growls instead of answering. “Ask Maze.” He jams his feet into his shoes as the doors open and he goes out the back to the private lot where his corvette stays. “Get in and shut up before I change my mind.” Lucifer says and Amenadiel hastens to obey.

A harrowing drive later that broke at least four traffic laws and had Amenadiel holding on for dear life with a white knuckled grip, they arrive at the hospital. 

Lucifer yanks the key out and nimbly hops over the edge of the door, leaving Amenadiel behind. Amenadiel unlocks his seat belt and fumbles with his door, running to catch up to Lucifer's long legged stride. 

When they get to Linda's room there are a cluster of doctors hovering around the door. 

“It's a miracle!” one is insisting. “There’s simply no good scientific explanation.” 

“Completely spontaneous regeneration of damaged tissue.” says another. “Early scans even suggest her bone density has been improved. Just imagine what else has changed!”

Well, perhaps Lucifer had been a _little_ overzealous when repairing Linda. It didn’t hurt to shore the old girl up a bit.

His colleague scoffs. “You wanna try and get in there? Be my guest. That woman with her is a _psychopath_. Won't let anyone in and terrified Security bad enough they won't even try to remove her.” 

Lucifer huffs a small laugh as he passes, heading to the door. 

“Oh, hey buddy, you don't want to do that - ” Someone grabs his arm. Lucifer looks down at the doctor who has stopped him with the full breadth of his condescension and disdain. The man lets go instantly. With an indignant sniff, Lucifer ignores him and proceeds to the door and steps inside. He can hear Amenadiel offering apologies behind him. 

Maze is looks over at their entrance, one hand holding on to Linda's, the other firm on her knife. As for Linda, she is sitting up, looking completely healthy and bright eyed. 

“Lucifer!” Linda greets with a wide smile. She sees Amenadiel come in behind him to close the door and says hello to him just as brightly. 

“How are you feeling?” Lucifer asks, genuinely, taking position at the foot of her bed. 

Linda chuckles. “Apparently never better.”

Amenadiel pushes forward, jostling Lucifer. “Linda, when you were healed, did you hear a voice? See anything, a person or a dove perhaps? Feel anything?” he asks. 

Linda, beautiful and understanding soul that she is, takes his question seriously, even as Maze and Lucifer send death glares Amenadiel’s way. 

“Well, I was asleep when it happened, so I didn't see or hear anything. But I did feel something.” she admits. 

Lucifer looks over, slightly alarmed. 

“It felt familiar, like...” she pauses. “It felt like light, an overwhelming peace. I knew things were going to be okay.” Linda smiles. 

Amenadiel opens his mouth to ask another question when Lucifer grinds his foot down on his brother's toes. Amenadiel sucks in a sharp breath and Lucifer ignores him. 

“While all that is absolutely riveting, Linda, darling, is there anything we can do for _you_?”

She sighs. “Frankly, I just want out of here. I want to go home.” 

“Consider it done.” Lucifer confirms. “Maze, gather up the good doctor’s things and I'll go settle her release.”

“Are we not going to talk about what this could mean?” Amenadiel protests. Maze levels an angry stare at him. “She’s been divinely healed!”

Lucifer gives him a plastic smile. “There will be plenty of time to discuss this later. Come, Amenadiel.” he says in a tone that brooks no argument. 

He follows Lucifer out of the room reluctantly. The doctors congregated outside the door scatter at Lucifer's thunderous scowl. Once they are far enough away from the room Lucifer whirls to face his brother. 

“What the hell was that back there?” he snaps. 

Amenadiel looks affronted. “Luci, this is unprecedented! We need to know as much -”

“I will not have you pressing Linda for information, am I clear?” the syllables are sharp off his tongue.

Amenadiel doesn't understand Lucifer’s insistence. “But -” 

“Am. I. Clear?” Lucifer reiterates, eyes flashing red. 

Amenadiel is a bit stunned by the intense reaction. He's abruptly reminded just how much Lucifer actually outranks him in power, but eventually nods. Linda has been put through enough. While whoever is responsible is unknown, it _is_ clear that this is a blessing. 

“Yes, of course.” he agrees, a bit shamefaced. “Do... Do you think it was father?” Amenadiel asks hesitantly. 

“No.” Lucifer replies honestly, firmly. 

“It could have been!” Amenadiel counters, defensive. “It was Mom who harmed her, maybe Father -” 

Lucifer scoffs. “Actually cared enough about one of his measly creation to do something? Not likely.” 

Amenadiel clenches his jaw, but has only entrenched himself in the idea instead of discarding it. Lucifer rolls his eyes, but doesn't have the patience to deal with it right now. 

“I am going to secure Linda’s release. Are you coming or not?”

Amenadiel dips his head. “Yes.”

Lucifer doesn't respond, but simply turns and continues his task. Thankfully, it's as easy as threatening the right people and flattering the wrong ones and Linda has been checked out and the bill settled. Bloody hell, he has spent far too much time in hospitals of late.

When they return to Linda’s rooms Maze has finished packing her things and Linda is dressed in a pair of comfy pants and what Lucifer recognizes as one of Detective Decker’s sweaters. 

“Ready?” Lucifer asks. 

“Yes.” Maze answers.

“I’d prefer to go with you, but I'm afraid I have lunch plans with the Detective I can't put off.” he says to Linda. 

She pats gently him on the arm. “It's quite alright, Lucifer.”

“Here,” Lucifer says, tossing Maze his keys. “Take the Corvette, I'll catch a cab.” he turns to Amenadiel, “We can share?”

“Thank you, but no. I would prefer to walk, I have some things on my mind.” Amenadiel replies with proper angelic stoicism. 

“Suit yourself.” Lucifer shrugs. They instinctively take up bracketing positions around Linda with Maze being the bulkhead clearing the path. No one tries to stop them from leaving.

Lucifer stops Maze as they reach the car out in the front. “You’ll watch over her?” 

“I will.” Maze replies, her jaw tense and her eyes fierce. 

“Good.” Lucifer says and steps back. He puts on his shades, offers them a slick smile and bids them farewell. 

He’s cutting his time quite close to when Chloe said she would be over and slides a Benjamin to the cabbie to get there a bit quicker. 

He rolls up to Lux with twenty minutes to spare and tips generously. 

He checks his phone, but there's no new messages and takes a quick shower. He checks his phone thrice more as he dresses in fresh clothes. Nothing yet. He sends a tentative text message and waits impatiently for a response. He busies himself with little things, drifting near the phone now and again, but there aren't any notifications. 

An hour and a half later he hears his phone buzz a few times in a row, but he's at the bar halfway through a bottle of scotch. He can guess what it says. She isn't able to make it. She's sorry. 

Well, he's beginning to feel a bit sorry himself, staring morosely at the amber liquid sloshing idly in his glass. 

He drags his eyes up when Maze enters the penthouse some time later, elevator doors closing behind her. He seems unsurprised by her presence, almost resigned. He brings the edge of his glass to his mouth and slams back the rest of its contents. 

“Chloe called you and sent you in her stead, I presume?”

“Yep.” Maze says, popping the P. She seems to be back to her old self now that Linda is safe and sound. 

“Lovely.” Lucifer grouses. 

“It was _supposed_ to be her day off, but then Delaney called in sick and he was on call so blah, blah, blah.” Maze rolls her eyes and gives Lucifer her exasperated _Humans_ face. “She had to take the case and couldn’t make it and you weren't picking up, so she wanted someone to keep an eye on you.”

He ignores her, setting the decanter down. “You don’t really need to be here, Mazikeen.” he gives her an irritated look. “You and I both know that once I was outside of the Detective’s proximity I healed up in a matter of moments.” he says, glossing over the fact that it took hours and he intermittently slept through almost all of it, which was most unlike him. All of this healing has been draining him like a battery. “You should have stayed with Linda.”

“She's sleeping and I’ll be heading back after this. Besides, she would want me to check on you, too. Are you sure you’re alright? You seem...different.” Maze says tilting her head curiously. Something about him was off and not just with Amenadiel spouting off about their Father working miracles. 

He sighs, aggrieved, his back and shoulders curled inwards. “Yes, Maze.” 

“Well, sor _RY_.” she replies insolently, a habit she has picked up from Trixie. “What’s with you lately?” she asks rhetorically. 

“Well, forgive me if I’m a bit out of sorts after recent events.” he retorts waspishly. 

Oddly enough, that bit of meanness seems to soften Maze. She lets out a soft breath and joins him at the bar. Lucifer looks at her and wordlessly asks if she wants a drink as well. She nods and he pours it, a silent apology. 

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure you and Decker will work it out.” Maze says with certainty. “And if you can’t, well, that’s what Linda is for, right?”

Lucifer hums tunelessly and Maze lets him have his contemplation. “Despite what Amenadiel thinks it means, I _am_ glad she is well, you know.” he responds with his gaze intense, held to Maze’s the way he does when he’s truly serious.

Maze nudges him with an elbow just on the friendly edge of sharp. “I know you are. Now, are you going to go pester Chloe at her crime scene or are you not the Devil I know you to be?” Maze taunts lightly, eyebrows arched challengingly. 

Lucifer blinks a little in surprise and then smirks down at Maze with that pleased look he gets when she suggests something devious. There really isn’t a reason for him not to crash the Detective’s crime scene, is there?

“You know, Maze, I would love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I just realized I have somewhere to be.” 

“Atta boy!” Maze calls after him as he swaggers off to the elevator. 

~~~~~~~~

Chloe is irritated and everyone knows it. The lieutenant has been working her hard lately and now she's been assigned a third case in a row. Usually she has Lucifer to bounce ideas off of and to lighten up her day with his... Lucifer-ness, but she's hardly gotten to see him at all since his desert rescue. And now he won’t pick up his phone so she’s been reduced to asking Maze for a favor to see if he’s alright.

No doubt that will come back to bite her.

“You alright there, Chlo?” Dan asks, breaking her out of her reverie. She shakes herself and nods. 

“Yeah,” she says with a quick smile. “Let's go.” They walk into the crime scene together, a little apartment near the UCLA campus. She heads inside and comes to a sudden halt. 

Absolutely every single inch of wall space is bristling with swords. They line the walls in special shelving or are displayed in glass cases or used as decoration, shining metal and sharp. Some are clearly antiques, others look nearly ancient, with little placards next to them. 

“Woah.” Dan says at her side. “That's a lot of swords.” 

Chloe snorts at the understatement, but agrees. 

Cops and forensics are already inside and going over the place very carefully after a rookie managed to slice his hand on a blade edge. The body is over by the desk, an older man, fifties, with a sword protruding from his chest. 

Chloe spies Ella already working and approaches. “What have we got?” 

Ella does look up from the body. “Jerald Lowry, 55, Professor of Middle Eastern and Medieval History at UCLA. Cause of death? Well,” Ella gestures to the sword sunk deep in the man and that pretty well sums it up. “Take a guess.”

A cop comes up with a preliminary report. Chloe thanks them and reads it. “There’s no sign of forced entry, so the killer either knew the professor or had a key.”

“The handle has been wiped clean, so no luck on prints. There’s an inscription on the sword.” Ella says, angling her head sideways to read what was visible of it. “Para bella?” she frowns. “For beautiful?” she translates skeptically.

“War.” Lucifer corrects. They all look at him, surprised at his sudden appearance. He looks back at them, guileless. 

“Lucifer, what are you doing here?” Chloe demands, striding away from the body and towards him. 

He gives her a scathing look. “Did you really think I would let you work another case alone?” 

“You're supposed to be resting!”

He makes a scoffing noise. “Please. Look at me, I'm as fit as a fiddle!” He holds his arms out for examination. 

And thing is, he’s _right_. He stands there whole and hale with nary a scratch on him. Any evidence of his ordeal in the desert has seemingly vanished overnight and he appears no worse for wear. She lets out an angry breath and throws her hands up. 

“Fine. But if you pass out, it's not my problem.” she says, with narrowed eyes. 

“I accept your conditions.” he says with a dip of his head as if he's doing her a great service. 

She makes an irritated noise and returns to her work. Lucifer follows half a step behind her.

“It’s Latin.” he says to Ella. “The inscription. _Si vis pacem para bella_. If you want peace, prepare for war.” he translates.

“Right.” Chloe says. “That’s not ominous at all.”

He proceeds to walk over to the wall of weapons and examine them, eyes keen. “It’s quite possible, Detective, that it was mere chance. Quite a few of his swords are etched with some turn of phrase. I’m fairly certain this one is in Sindarin.” he says, running his finger down the edge of a leaf-shaped blade.

“No way! Really?” Ella says ecstatically. She pops up to go see, but is quickly quelled by a Look from Chloe. “Uh, I mean, wow neato, Lucifer, but I’m working right now.” She says _sotto voce_ as she sinks back down towards the body and focuses on her work.

Lucifer carefully pulls a sword loose from where it’s held to the wall and holds it out, examining the blade with a critical eye and then flicking the tip up and down through the air. 

“Lucifer -” Chloe starts, ready to curb his childish fascination with things he shouldn’t touch.

He does an eye-catching flourish with it, the blade flashing in the light. “It’s decently balanced.” Lucifer muses. He takes a step forward and brings the sword up in a skillful slash. “A fairly well made sword, all around.”

“You know how to sword fight?” Chloe can’t help but ask, drawn in by his display.

He casts a side-eye in her direction. “You forget, my dear - angels were warriors first.” 

And for a single heart-stopping moment as he stands there, sword in hand like it belongs, the light flaring out behind him through the blinds, she believes it. And then the moment passes and he's just her weird, mysterious partner once more. 

“Perhaps if Maze is amiable we can put on a demonstration, she's a dab hand with a sword even though she really favors more close range blades. Amenadiel could do in a pinch.” he says more to himself than anyone.

“Uh, dude!” Ella says. “That would be _Ah_ -mayzing!” She completely misses Chloe frantically shaking her head no. 

“Right, well.” Lucifer preens a little, pleased. “I shall endeavor to arrange it, Miss Lopez.”

“Great.” Dan mutters and Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose and tries to get them back on track.

“Could it have been an accident?” Chloe asks aloud, taking in all the potential weapons that cover the walls. 

“Oh, no.” Lucifer refutes. “Not with that blade.” 

“Why not?” Dan questions. Lucifer swivels on his foot to look at Dan as if he couldn't believe his ignorance. Dan watches the hand holding the sword warily. 

“It’s a roman gladius, that's why.” 

Seeing their uncomprehending looks he snorts a breath out of his nose and tuts disparagingly at the state of their ignorance. 

“The inscription might have been accidental, but the choice of blade was not. It’s a military weapon, a blade designed for killing blows. The gladius does absolutely _horrific_ things to internal organs. Surviving a wound to the body like that is pretty much impossible.” he explains. “Even an amateur can do irrevocable damage, and this was no clumsy blow. No, I grant you that who ever stabbed this fellow knew exactly what they were doing and what kind of sword to do it with.” 

“Lucifer, that's great, really, but can you put the sword away?” Chloe requests. 

Lucifer seems a bit put out, but complies easily enough and everyone breathes a little freer. “It’s quite the collection our deceased professor has amassed here. Maze would be thrilled.” he says.

“Yeah, and let’s never, _ever_ tell her about it.” Dan retorts.

Lucifer seems relatively amused by Dan’s healthy fear of Maze. 

“We need to compile a list of people he worked with, talk to a few of his students.” Chloe starts formulating a plan. “Have we gotten in contact with whoever is in charge of the University?”

“Not yet, I’ll get on it.” Dan replies and steps outside to make some calls.

“Thanks, Dan.” she says as he passes.

“Detective,” Lucifer gets her attention and steps in close. “Perhaps, if you’re free tonight, you could join me at Lux and we could have the chance to talk?” he asks hopefully.

Chloe winces. “Can we save the whole talking thing for after the case?” she asks, trying not to watch how his face falls before going utterly blank. “It’s just - I don’t want to be distracted.” she says weakly.

“I see.” he replies slowly. “Yes, I suppose it can wait until the case is solved.”

Chloe gives him a grateful smile, while inside her gut churns. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, Detective.” and she wonders if he sounds more remote or if she’s just imagining it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~i'm so sorry~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Don't worry you guys, it will be okay!! Lucifer and Chloe will get there eventually, they're just stubborn idiots with a lot of feelings and monstrously bad timing D:


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, bad news the chapter grew to be like 9k words so its been chopped in half. good news is you should have a second chapter by this weekend!
> 
> also quick disclaimer, I went straight from high school to the work force so i know shit all about college, so ignore any terrible mistakes about campus life
> 
> second, pretend I finished this in June like I had originally intended

The Chancellor of the school is a polished, older man with a head of platinum white hair and pitch black eyebrows. He's frazzled, but not in the suspicious sort of way, just the harried disposition of a busy man. 

He shakes their hands, introduces himself and leads Chloe and Lucifer through the university campus with a pace that's just a fraction too fast. She has to work to keep up, but Lucifer seems to be having no trouble, simply lengthening his stride to accommodate with those long legs of his. She shoots him a dirty look and he blinks dark, guileless eyes back at her.

“It's terrible, really. A tragedy.” the Chancellor says with just a hint of a New York accent, seeming sincere. “Jerry was one of our most accredited professors, but it was more than that. He was always such a joy to be around. It's a real loss for us, his students, and his family.” he shakes his head, dark eyebrows furrowed together. 

“We appreciate you letting us look around and speak to those that knew him.” Chloe says. 

“Of course,” he says and then gestures a guiding hand. “It's right through here.”

Chloe takes a turn down the corresponding hallway and Lucifer trails along behind her, his long legs easily catching up whenever he pauses to take in the sights. The sights usually being giggling collage girls. 

“His students are in his classroom, we've offered counseling, but many are quite distraught.” he says with a dubious look towards Lucifer who is leering at a group of co-eds. 

“We will be courteous. No one has to talk to us that doesn't want to.” Chloe says with understanding. The Chancellor nods and, after thanking her and her efforts, takes his leave. 

Lucifer abandons his flirtations and joins her at the door, bouncing on his toes just behind her shoulder, peering in through the little window at the class assembled just inside.

“Are these the students?” he asks.

She turns to him, gaze sharp in a way that deflates his enthusiasm a bit. “They are. I need you to be with me on this, Lucifer. Respectful.”

“Yes, of course.” he says, sobering. “My apologies, Detective.” 

She squeezes his elbow to soften her reprimand and opens the door. They step in and the man leading the class turns to them. He's mid thirties, bespectacled and his hair is a bit messy from his hands running through it. 

“And here they are now.” he says aloud to the gathered students and steps over to them. 

Chloe meets him and holds out her hand for a shake. “Hi, Detective Decker. This is my partner, Mister Morningstar.” Lucifer gives the young man a seductive grin, dark eyes and charm. 

Two spots of color appear on the man's cheeks. “Yes, right. Um,” he stares at Lucifer for a moment, just long enough to become awkward. Not that awkwardness phases Lucifer in the slightest. Chloe clears her throat. The man realizes he hasn't introduced himself and launches abruptly into it. “Matthew Barnes. Associate Professor of History. I guess I'm filling in until the board figures out what they're going to do with the vacancy.” 

“This is Professor Lowrey's class?”

“Most of them, yes. Classes have been momentarily suspended, so they're here for moral support or to lend what help they can. I guess I’ll be coming up with some sort of curriculum at some point, but for now...” he shrugs.

The students, for all their desire to aid in the investigation, are a bit wary about actually speaking to a detective. Usually, it's left to Chloe to play the more approachable individual when working with a partner, but with Lucifer usual goes out the window. 

“Right!” Lucifer claps his hands together and draws the class’ attention easily. “As you no doubt are aware already, Professor Lowery has been killed.” There is a quiet murmuring and a few sniffles that Lucifer pauses to accommodate, an appropriate looking expression of sympathy on his face that might have worked on anyone else, if not for the fact that Chloe knew it was totally fake. “Detective Decker and I are investigating the case. We are here to get a better understanding of what he was like as a person and who better to tell us than you, his students?” 

He allows the question to hang in the air for a moment and even Chloe is impressed by his showmanship, the young adults held in his thrall. “We will be sitting right over there, whenever you're ready.” he points. He lifts a hand to span across Chloe’s back and guides her over. 

Seeing her slightly stunned look, he gives her a mock disapproving frown. “Come now, Detective. I once had to manage entire legions of demons, a few impressionable school children is hardly an effort.” 

She rolls her eyes at him. “Are demons that difficult to handle?” she asks, unable to help herself. 

He gives her a look like she's being intentionally obtuse. “You’ve _met_ Maze.” he tells her. “Believe me, Detective, you’d have better luck trying to wrangle cats.” 

Chloe snorts and takes her seat. 

*********

There's a young girl in the chair across from them alarmingly quickly, with blond hair falling from her face and eyes just a shade too alert to be comfortable. 

“Hi, there.” she breathes. 

Chloe leans forward aggressively, cutting into the line of sight. “Yeah, hi.” Chloe returns, “What can you tell us about Professor Lowrey and what he was like?” Chloe asks with uncharacteristic abruptness. The girl’s gaze flickers to Chloe before going back to Lucifer. He gives her a winning grin.

“Yeah, sure. He was a good teacher, not boring like some of the other history classes. Are you single?” she asks with hardly a pause. 

“I’m afraid I'm unavailable, darling.” Lucifer lets the girl down with a gentle smile while Chloe is preoccupied with looking steadily down at her notes, suddenly unable to look over at him. The young girl pouts and leaves her seat for another. 

*********

A girl with short red hair is next but doesn't seem quite so taken with Lucifer. She answers the standard questions and then asks one of her own. 

“How long have the two of you been working together?” But her eyes settle equal amounts on them both and there's no glassy eyed rapture. 

“I've been a Detective with the LAPD for ten years and Lucifer has been my partner for two.” Chloe says. 

The girl nods, “It really shows. My dad is a cop out in Colorado. The split was real bad, but I really miss him sometimes, you know?” she says, getting that confused look that people get when Lucifer pulls their words from them.

“I know.” Chloe says in sympathetic response while Lucifer goes quiet. “Thank you for speaking with us.”

“I hope you find who killed Prof. Jerry, he was a good teacher.” 

“Thanks.” Chloe responds. Maybe the interviews wouldn't be so bad. 

*********

The next student, male, warm brown skin with a white little scar below his eye. He leans forward and asks, “Is it true that Jerry was stabbed with a sword?” Chloe visibly twitches with irritation. Lucifer catches the boy’s eye and they glaze over. “I secretly run a gossip blog and this is the juiciest thing that’s happened all year.” he admits and then flushes.

“I can't discuss the unreleased details of an ongoing case.” Chloe responds and the boy subsides with a disappointed face. “How was Professor Lowrey’s class?”

“Oh, um. Fine, Jerry is - was - a good teacher.” he scratches at the back of his neck.

********

It’s one thing to know that some how Lucifer can pull people’s desires to the surface, but quite another to watch it happen over and over again in such a short amount of time. Particularly when it’s the desires of bunch of college kids, which range from the prurient to the painfully idealistic.

A guy in a tank top and a hat sits down in the seat backwards. He gives Chloe a blatant once over and jerks his jaw upwards in greeting. Chloe wonders why on earth she didn't make Dan do the interviews. 

“So, like, have you ever killed anyone?” the guy asks boldly, leaning forward. 

Chloe sighs, but it's Lucifer that answers for her. 

“Detective Decker is one of the finest officers in Los Angeles who daily puts her own life in risk to help others. Sometimes this places her in situations where, to protect herself or to protect others, decisions involving the taking of a life must be made.” he says sharply, effectively dismissing the question. “Anything else?” he asks with a fierce enough glare the boy scrambles a little as he leaves.

*******

“I don't think there's much more that I can tell you.” she says, “I already gave my statement to the police.” 

There's a slightly confused look from Chloe as she halts in the middle of her first question, looking up at the next student across from them. “When did you speak to the police?”

“This morning, I was the one who found him at his place.” she explains, a brief look of grief passing over her face. 

Chloe flips through her notebook, finding the eyewitness statement. “Veronika Cooper?”

The young woman gives a humorless smile in response. “That's me.” 

“What were you doing at the professor's apartment?” Lucifer asks, a salacious curiosity in his eyes.

“It wasn't anything like that. Gross.” Veronika crinkles her nose. “I was there to return a book that he had lent me for my paper.” She holds it up and there's a cover depicting a bloody scene of the Crusades. 

“Delightful.” Lucifer says dryly. 

“Has there been any progress?” she asks, hopeful despite knowing the answer.

Chloe’s face melts into one of understanding. “No, not yet.” she says gently

Veronika nods. “He was a good teacher,” she says, like many of the students. “Fun. He would bring in foam replicas of the swords, set up pretend fights where you had to get answers right to win, or demonstrate fighting styles with Professor Barnes, that sort of thing. Really brought history to life. I’m going to really miss him.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Chloe replies; automatic, but sincere. 

The bell rings, prompting the students to start leaving the classroom. Veronika gets to her feet and shoulders her bag. “I hope you find who did it.” she says, jaw tense. “Professor Jerry deserves justice.”

“We’ll do our best.” Chloe promises.

“Your pin.” Lucifer says suddenly, eyes focused on the colorful bit of metal on Veronika’s jacket. “What is it?”

“Oh, um.” she glances down at the pin in question. “It’s the bisexual flag colors. You know, for Pride Month?”

“Oh, believe me, I am quite familiar with Pride. My dear old dad kicked me out of the house for it.” Lucifer says, old grief hidden in his words, and Veronika gives him a look of commiseration. 

“That sucks, man.” 

“Incredibly.” Lucifer replies, eyes wide. 

“Well, if you want one, they're selling them out in the courtyard for a couple of bucks.” she says before she joins the flood of students moving through the halls. Lucifer watches as Chloe gathers up the notes and testimonies and lines the pages up.

Prof. Matthew Barnes comes over to their table after the students have all left the room. “Were you able to get what you needed?” he asks, looking tired himself.

Unwilling to say that most of it had been a wasted effort that could have been delegated to beat cops, Chloe just smiles pleasantly enough and replies, “It was good to get an idea of what he was like as a teacher. It seemed his students really cared for him.”

“Yeah, he was a good professor.” Prof. Barnes says, looking contrite. 

Sensing an opportunity to get more information, Chloe focuses. “How was he with the rest of the staff?”

“Oh, everybody loved Jerry.” Barnes is quick to say. “He’s held his position here for quite some time.”

“And no trouble that you know of in his personal life?”

He hesitates and Chloe’s gaze sharpens. “He...he and his wife have been going through a rough patch. Nancy.” he explains. “That’s why he was living in that apartment. He usually just stays there when there’s a project he’s working on and to house his collection, but he’s been living there on a permanent basis for a little while.”

“Any reason why?” Chloe asks. She decides they’ll be going to interview the wife next.

Barnes shrugs. “He didn’t really like to talk about it.”

Chloe makes a small note at the bottom of her page and looks up and smiles at Prof. Barnes. “Thank you for all your help. Could you show us where Professor Lowrey’s office is? We want to take a look around.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Professor Barnes leads them to a little office space that’s mostly overrun with books. Chloe pulls some gloves on and digs through drawers, but it’s largely academic junk and student papers. Lucifer is perusing the bookshelves, stopping now and again to pull one out and leaf through it.

“Quite the eclectic collector, our professor.” Lucifer murmurs as he reads through a passage about how damascus steel was possibly forged. “What will happen to it all?”

“I imagine what belongs to the university will stay and everything else will be transported to the next of kin. His wife, probably.” Chloe tugs on a drawer but it halts. Locked.

“Pity.” Lucifer sighs forlornly, he would like to see some of these line his own shelves. 

He sees Chloe yank on the drawer uselessly and returns the book to its place. He comes over and squats down next to her. He reaches out, letting his innate ability on all things locked to shift the pins and then pulls. The drawer slides open smoothly and Chloe blows a strand of hair out of her face to glare at him. He grins and she starts rifling through this drawer, but it’s nothing more than student grade information and test questions.

“We’ll have to interview her next, see if they’re separation has any bearing on the case.” Chloe says, shuffling through papers, making note of who was doing poorly in Professor Lowrey’s class.

“That should be interesting.” Lucifer says, wandering back towards the books. Chloe snorts a laugh and finishes up with the desk.

“You find anything out of place?” she asks him, getting to her feet.

“Not a thing.” 

She sighs, “I’ll have Forensics go over it just in case, but I think you’re right.” She gets her phone out to make some calls.

“Shall we head back?”

“Yeah,” Chloe replies and then her line picks up and she’s busy issuing directions. Lucifer is walking ahead of her, easily clearing a path that she takes advantage of as they wind through the school. 

He continues walking towards where they are parked as Chloe slows to a stop in the courtyard. “Text me the address, would you?” she asks into the phone. There’s a folding table with a little rainbow paper flag taped on the front. “Yeah, thanks. I appreciate it.” She finishes her conversation with the officer on the other end of the line and heads over.

The two people manning the booth suddenly sit up at attention when they see her. One eyes the gun and badge on her belt anxiously. Chloe gives them a smile to ease their nervousness.

“Are you the ones selling the pins?” she asks, even though she can clearly see that they are, little rows of buttons and pins spread out.

“No, ma’am. We aren’t selling anything. That would be in violation of campus policy.” replies the first, a large guy with a swirly tattoo peeking out from under his collar and scaling up his neck. “These buttons are 100% free. There is, however, a suggested donation of 2 dollars per button to help support the LGBT+ clubs, though.” and he grins, wide and brash.

She gives him a conspiratorial sort of grin. “Very clever.” she commends. She looks over the selection, most of the striped representations are familiar to her, but there are some that she doesn’t recognize.

“We have ones with magnetic backs, too.” the second pipes up, a young person of indeterminate gender and bright green eyes. “If you don’t want to poke holes in your shirt.”

Chloe pictures Lucifer’s fussy attitude with his dress and grooming and wisely chooses from the magnetic buttons. She selects one for him and one for Maze and then, after a brief moment of hesitation, gets one for herself, slipping it into her pocket. She pulls a ten out of her wallet, holds it up to them with a raised brow, and drops it into the donation box.

“Thank you for the donation, officer.” the first says wryly, “Enjoy your free pins.”

“Detective!” she hears Lucifer call and she turns to see him striding over, a slight look of perturbation on his face. “There you are, I thought I’d lost you.” he frowns a bit, coming to a halt beside her. “What are you doing?”

She takes a step, just enough in his space that his whole attention narrows down to her, hyperaware. She separates the button from its backing and reaches up.

“What are you...?” he trails off as she secures the button to his lapel, the pull-click of the magnet. “Oh.” he says, quiet. He brings his fingers up to touch it with reverence. Pink, purple, blue stripes. “You bought me one? Thank you, Detective.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome.” She gives him a once over with a mock critical eye. “Looks good.” she decides.

He smirks, pleased. “Shall we go speak with the wife now?”

Chloe nods and touches her fingers just briefly at his wrist as she passes. “We shall.” she says in arch imitation of his diction. Lucifer trails after her like the tide pulled by the moon.

The two people running the table look at each other. “That was fuckin’ adorable.” the guy says.

“Same.” replies the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there will be a lot more development in the next chapter, which should be up friday/sat? and also, if you're interested, you can find me on tumblr [Here](http://wollfgangsblog.tumblr.com) for lucifer nonsense and fanfic tidbits :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More clues are uncovered and Maze and Lucifer have a heart to heart with a little help from Linda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the rest of what would have been a monster chapter, hope you lovelies enjoy! x

The car ride over to the wife’s house is pretty pleasant. Lucifer is surprisingly content, although she catches him examining his reflection in the side mirror now and again. She tries to smother her smile, finding his vanity somehow endearing. He adjusts and fiddles with his button before settling and gazing out the window. Chloe finds her attention drifting over to his profile more than it probably should while she’s driving.

“Do you think it could be the wife who did it?” Lucifer wonders aloud.

“It’s possible. If things were bad enough between them.” Chloe replies, not willing to entertain anything further until they have spoken with the woman.

“She could have some knowledge of the damage a gladius could do because of her husband’s work.” Lucifer supposes. “It’s amazing how capricious humans can be with their relationships.”

Chloe side eyes him with disbelief. “Because you are so constant in your affections.” she says dryly. 

“Perhaps, but I never offer my guests anything more than a night of pleasure. These people swore to be together forever and all that nonsense.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I may be the devil, Detective, but I _do_ fulfill my promises.” he says with just a bit of indignance.

She sighs, for all his faults he _does_ hold to his word. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” she apologizes and he capitulates easily. She thinks about Dan and the things they had once promised to each other and how it all fell apart. “Sometimes people just fall out of love, I guess.”

Lucifer looks at her and says, “Well, I wouldn’t know.” 

His voice is intentionally casual, but his is gaze unwavering. They stare at each other for too long of a moment. There’s an electronic trill of a message notification and Lucifer startles slightly before digging into his pocket. Chloe jerks her eyes back to the road and tries to figure out why her heart is pounding so hard. He reads the contact name and his brows draw low over his eyes. 

“Everything okay?” Chloe asks, glancing over at him.

“Yes, quite. It’s Dr. Linda.”

“How is she?” Chloe asks as he thumbs at his phone, opening the message.

“She’s doing rather well, currently recovering at home with Maze watching over her.” he says.

“Glad to hear it. I’m surprised the hospital discharged her so quickly.”

“Yes, well.” Lucifer says somewhat distractedly as he reads. The text informs him that, with her health being perfectly well, his therapy appointment still stands and that Linda expects him on time at her home. The address soon follows. 

“I need to go visit.” Chloe muses. “Bring something by.”

“I’m sure she would be delighted to see you.” he says absently, face a bit disgruntled. Then he sighs. He was meaning to go and check on Linda again at some point and she’s right; it wouldn’t do to miss his appointment when there was no longer a reason to postpone it. He texts back an affirmative. 

*********

They pull up to Nancy Lowrey’s house, a cute, little two-bedroom place, painted a series of pastels with an ornate fenced garden in the front. There’s a squad car parked on the side of the road nearby and Chloe pulls in behind it. 

“How quaint.” Lucifer observes, eyeing the pale peach shutters like they were some sort of pestilence. 

Chloe ignores him and exits the car, hearing Lucifer do the same. She heads up the steps, noticing the little mosaics and knicknacks that scatter throughout the front yard. Officer Bircher greets them at the door and leads them through a modest kitchen to a doilie filled living room. Lucifer eyes the decor with distaste and Chloe elbows him. 

“Be gentle, if you can.” Bircher cautions them.

Mrs. Lowrey is sitting on the couch looking small and shocked still, a cooling cup of tea in her hands.

“Mrs. Lowrey?” Chloe ventures, voice quiet.

The woman looks up, seemingly surprised that they are already here. Her hair is caught between grey and blond and she has big, light colored eyes, shiny with tears that she quickly blinks away. She looks less and less of a suspect by the second.

“Oh! Hello, Detectives. Officer Bircher told me you were coming.” she says, trying to work up a smile. “He’s been such a dear through all of this, he said you would have questions about Jerry.” 

“Yes, we do.” Chloe confirms, understanding Bircher’s cautionary words. Mrs. Lowrey looks like a strong wind could blow her over.

“Please, have a seat.” she insists, gesturing to the couch across from her.

“Thank you, Mrs. Lowrey.” Chloe says as they carefully lower themselves down onto the loveseat. 

It’s a little bit of a tight fit, the long line of Lucifer’s thigh presses along her own, the heat of him bleeding through the fabric. Lucifer has to awkwardly arrange his feet to keep from bumping into the coffee table, resting his hands on his knees to keep from jostling Chloe as she takes out her notebook and writes.

“Oh, please, call me Nancy.” she says, hands fluttering a bit.

“Nancy, I have to ask. Can you tell us where you were last night?”

“Yes, I understand. Officer Bircher said you would need to know. I had my regular bridge game with the ladies and then I was at home, asleep.” she says easily enough.

“I’ll need the names of the women from the game to confirm.” Chloe tells her and Nancy nods.

“Of course. I have them written down in the kitchen.” she says. 

Chloe looks over at Lucifer and jerks her chin, indicating he should do his mojo thing. He slides forward, his trousers rasping distractingly against her leg, but there’s nowhere to shift to. Lucifer turns his attention to Nancy and that telltale smirk slicks across his face, eyes locked forward.

“Tell me, Nancy. What is your deepest desire? Did you want him gone? Wanted your freedom?” Lucifer coaxes, his voice smooth.

Nancy looks at his dark eyes, brows furrowing in confusion. “No, not at all.” she says slowly. “I wish he was still alive.” she says earnestly. Lucifer blinks in surprise. “I - I miss him.”

“I thought the two of you had a strained relationship.” Chloe says, puzzled.

Nancy nods. “We were going through a...tough time...in our marriage, yes. Arguing. About work, about money. We thought it best to live separately for a while. But we were going to couple’s therapy, working through it.”

“Oh, I've got one of those myself. Surprisingly helpful, isn’t it?” Lucifer says with enthusiasm. 

Nancy nods. “Oh, yes. Dr. Knox is a godsend. Things were improving between the two of us. Jerry wasn't spending so much time at the University, he was actually going out and enjoying himself for once.” She smiles wobbly at them. “I was going to ask him to move back in this weekend.” she admits. “Now, I'll never get the chance.” and she breaks down in tears. 

Lucifer slides back, away from the sudden display of emotion. 

Nancy manages to get herself together after a moment. “His Guild is going to be heartbroken.” she says mostly to herself.

“His what?” Chloe asks. 

“Jerry was involved in a LARPing Guild, Storm...something. StormPunch? It might seem a bit silly, grown adults smacking each other around with swords, but he loved it.” Nancy explains. “It got him out of the office and outside. I would go with him sometimes, just to watch, of course.”

“Grown adults what?” Lucifer asks, aghast.

Chloe waves him away. “They use swords?” she asks Nancy. 

“Oh, well, yes. Not real ones, though. But Jerry found it a great way to connect with fellow weaponry enthusiasts.”

Chloe and Lucifer share a look. “Do you know any names of the members that Jerry was familiar with?”

“I think so yes. They are having a meet up tomorrow, I think. I have an invite somewhere.” she says, getting to her feet and toddling off to the kitchen.

“Our killer knew his way around a sword.” Chloe says to Lucifer, keeping her voice down.

“You can’t be serious. You really think one of these Dungeon and Dragon enthusiasts bopped Professor Lowrey with a foam sword and then, what? Decided to go for the real thing?”

“Hey, don’t knock D&D.” Chloe points a sharp finger at him. Then she shrugs. “It’s a good a lead as any.”

Lucifer snorts and hastily turns it into a cough as Nancy returns. “Here, I have the list of the bridge players also.” she says, handing Chloe a brightly colored flyer and a sheet of notebook paper with cursive spidering across it.

Chloe stands and Lucifer gets to his feet as well. “Thank you.” She takes the papers. “You’ve been very helpful, Mrs. Lowrey.”

The woman nods. “Anything I can do to find who did this to my poor Jerry.” she says and then starts to crumple into tears once more. Chloe places a consoling hand on her arm and leads her to Bircher, who, despite being a six foot three, ex-linebacker, is far better with comforting crying women than Chloe is.

They head back to the station and Chloe begins compiling her report. It’s late enough that she decides to call it a day. They’ll confer with Ella in the morning to see if she’s turned up anything new, and then drive out to take a look at the StormFist Guild’s event tomorrow, but, right now, there’s not much more for them to do except run down alibis. 

Lucifer checks the time and has to get going to make his therapy appointment and bids Chloe goodnight.

Chloe looks up at him from behind her desk, she hadn't realized how late it had gotten. “Goodnight, Lucifer. I’ll see you tomorrow?” she says, unsure.

“Bright and early, Detective.” he replies and she snorts at his levity. Her eyes linger on him as he exits the precinct. 

**********

Lucifer pulls up to Linda’s house and shuts the corvette off, the engine clicking quietly. Linda’s house is small, but not too far from the beach. He gives himself a brief moment to have a quiet freak out and then forces himself from the vehicle.

He reaches the door and only gets a single knock off before it’s swinging open to reveal Maze. She looks him up and down and snaps her gum.

“Sorry, but we don’t need any more Girl Scout cookies.”

“Maze.” he says, exasperated with her ill timed bouts of humor.

“You’re no fun.” she pouts and walks away to let him in. He closes the door behind himself and takes the house in. It’s fairly similar to Linda’s office, but warmer. There’s a thick throw tossed over one corner of a modern looking couch and a tv takes up most of the wall to his left. It reminds him a little of the beach house belonging to Penelope Decker that Chloe had stayed in for a time. 

“There you are!” Linda says, coming around a corner. She’s no longer in the mismatched clothes she had left the hospital in, but is wearing a crisp white shirt and comfy looking pants.

“I hope Maze has been behaving for you.” Lucifer says. 

“She’s been wonderful.” Linda assures, which he highly doubts. He tosses a skeptical look towards the demon in question over Linda’s head and Maze sticks her tongue out at him. “Here, we can talk in the office.” Linda says, directing him to a little room off the hallway. He cranes his neck to try and get a peek at the bedroom and gets nothing more than a glance at a grey duvet before he’s shuffled into the office.

It’s smaller than her work location, but serviceable enough. There’s a desk and a sleek laptop in one corner and a few shelves lined with psychology texts. Instead of a couch, there is a large chair that she directs him to sit in. She pulls out the desk chair and spins it to face him.

“Thank you for coming.” she says in that formal voice she gets when a session starts.

“Thank you for inviting me to your home.” he replies, recognizing it for the act of trust it was. He can’t imagine many clients getting the privilege, but he presumes that he and Linda are not merely client and doctor, but friends as well.

“I suppose I should start off with asking what happened with Charlotte, your mother.” she says, diving right into it.

Lucifer winces. “Mum’s gone, left for a whole new plain of reality without a way back. It’s Charlotte and just Charlotte in that body now. It’s my fault, but there wasn’t another option. And, _no_ , I don’t want to talk about it.” he rattles off quickly.

Linda takes a moment to digest all of that before replying. “Lucifer, you were put in an _unbelievably_ difficult position and you chose to take the course of action with the least amount of bloodshed, even at cost to yourself. That was an incredible thing to do and I’m very proud of you.” she says. 

She politely refrains from continuing until he has his expression back under control. But if he doesn’t want to talk about it, then there is no point in pressing it. They could come back to it later or whenever he felt more up to the task. Subject change, then. “You seemed rather frustrated with your brother this morning, would you like to talk about that?”

Bingo. Lucifer quickly switches from quiet devastation to heated annoyance with mercurial speed. “Amenadiel seems certain it was our Father who healed you.” Lucifer complains. “And refuses to listen to any kind of reason on the subject.” 

“Does it bother you that your brother gives credit to God?”

Lucifer doesn't reply right away. “It serves it’s purpose.” he answers cryptically. 

When it doesn't seem like he's going to continue, Linda speaks. “Well, I don't think it was your Father.” 

His eyebrows shoot upwards in surprise. “And why ever not, Doctor?” 

She purses her mouth in thought. “It - it didn't feel like him.” Linda says and then holds eye contact with Lucifer. “It felt like you.” 

He fidgets and his eyes flick away before returning and not wavering. “Did it?” he asks and that might as well be confirmation from a devil who refuses to lie. So she puts as much sincerity and emphasis in her next words as she can. 

“ _Thank_ you, Lucifer.”

“Yes, well.” he grants her a quicksilver smile, uncomfortable with her gratitude, pulling at his jacket. “Consider it a gift. Free of charge.”

She smiles in return and lets Lucifer have a moment to settle. “So. Healing.” Linda crosses her legs. “That's a new development.”

“One of many.” Lucifer says bitterly. 

“Oh?” Linda raises her eyebrows. 

He sighs. “Supernatural or Detective related, therapist’s choice.”

“Supernatural first, then Chloe.” Linda directs. 

Nodding like that was what he expected, he gets to his feet. “I suppose it's only right for you to be first.”

Linda’s brow furrows, wondering if he's about to walk out. Instead he rolls his shoulders and shakes out a pair of gorgeous white wings. If he stretched them at all they would smack into each end of the room. As it is, he leaves them mostly mantled. 

Linda stays rooted to her chair and swallows. “They're _beautiful_.” 

Lucifer flinches a little and Linda tells herself to get a grip and be as professional as possible. She stands, coming closer to examine them. 

“How do they not rip your clothes?” she can't help but wonder. 

“It’s complicated. It has to do with the spaces between atoms and there's just a _horrendous_ amount of math involved, but basically it boils down to ‘because I don't want them to.’” 

“Can I touch?” she asks. The wing nearest her gives an aborted sort of flutter, but then steadies. 

“If you like.” Lucifer says as carelessly as he can, but she hears his voice wobble. “Avoid the flight feathers, dear. They're sharp.” he says and she takes his word for it, gently placing her hand on the lowered bend of the wing. 

“It’s warm.” she says with some amazement. 

“It _is_ a limb, Doctor.” he says, a bit amused. He lifts the wing a bit, bumping her palm. She trails her fingers carefully along the edge and Lucifer’s eyes close. 

“How did this happen? I thought you cut them off.” 

“Honestly, your guess is about as good as mine. No doubt dear old Dad had something to do with it.” he says caustically. “At least Father’s manipulations come a few little perks.”

“Healing.” Linda supplies. 

“Healing.” Lucifer confirms. “Flight, the ability to travel between realms, the feathers double as a weapon if needs must.” 

“So you could get out of Hell if something happened to you?”

Lucifer nods. “Yes. Heaven is still barred for me, but I can travel between this realm and the Infernal one.” He folds his wings up and vanishes them, retaking his seat.

“I can't speak for your Father, but...is it possible that this is a reward?” Linda suggests. 

Lucifer seems struck by the possibility and then covers it up with a scoff. 

“You've made a lot of progress here, Lucifer.” Linda insists, settling herself back in her chair. “Learning to care for others and having a better understanding of your own emotions. Maybe He sees that.”

Lucifer is quiet for a long while. “Would that it were true.” he says. 

Knowing she won't get any further with this line of discussion, Linda switches to the second point of contention. “What sort of difficulties are you experiencing with Detective Decker?” 

“I’ve decided to tell her the truth, _show_ her.” he says nervously. “She said that going backwards isn't good for anyone.”

“She’s right.” Linda confirms. 

“I _know_ , but now everytime I try and talk to her or arrange to actually _discuss things_ for once, something comes up or she puts me off, or there's - there's a case.” he says frustratedly. “If I didn't know better, I would think Uriel had something to do with it.” he mutters. 

“It is possible that she's become used to the previous dynamic between the two of you and now that it's changing, she is as nervous as you are.”

“But she's the one who started it!” he exasperates.

“Well, emotions don't always make sense. You know that.” she says, shifting forward in her chair. 

“What can I do?” he asks, sounding hopeless. 

“You can be patient. As she has been with you.” Linda says comfortingly. “Perhaps the Detective just wants to ensure she has the proper time to give you her full attention.” she offers up as a secondary interpretation. 

His mouth flattens. “I hope you're right, Linda.”

 _Me too_ , she thinks. Then, with nothing more to say on that, she returns to the subject of his wings. “You said I was the first to see your wings. Is there a reason you haven't shown them to anyone else? Why not Maze?” Linda asks. 

Lucifer seems a bit startled at the question. “I - yes.” he says abortively, fingers tapping against his knee. 

Linda is troubled by the fact that he’s been carrying this alone, that not even Maze has been made aware. “Do you feel comfortable talking about those reasons?” 

He looks away. “It’s partially a trust...thing.” he says, the words distasteful in his mouth. “Last time Maze had something to do with my wings, she-” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “She took part of them for herself.” 

“And that hurt you?” Linda asks.

“I suppose it did. But I forgave her, it's in the past.” he says decisively and then sighs. “I keep thinking that I'm not even going to keep them, you know. Telling myself that it's okay to enjoy them for now, because they'll be gone soon enough. But I’m the Devil, and I know a lie when I hear one, even if I'm lying to myself. I'm fairly certain that Maze would refuse to cut them off a second time.” 

Maze had hardly managed doing it the first time, hands slick with his blood, cursing him in endless streams of vitriolic hate as he nearly bled to death in the sand. 

“Is there a reason you shouldn’t enjoy them?” Linda asks, curious.

“Besides the fact that they are a representation of my Father and Heaven and everything I stand against?” he asks a bit sarcastically. “No, none at all.”

“They are _your_ wings, Lucifer.” Linda tells him firmly. “They represent only what you want them to.” 

His brows furrow. Surely, it could not be that easy. Just claim ownership of them and let his wings hold no more meaning than he allows?

“But back to the question at hand.” Linda says, not letting herself be distracted. “You said it's only _partially_ a trust issue.” 

“With my wings back, she could,” he swallows. “Maze could have me take her back to Hell, if she wanted.” 

Linda blinks in surprise. 

“I won't go back.” he says suddenly, fiercely. Then he's on his feet, pacing. “I won't. I like it here, I have a _home_ here. But if Maze wanted to return, I wouldn't make her stay. And then I would be -” he cuts himself off viciously. 

“You would be what?”

“I’d be here alone.” he finishes, the words raw, his shoulders sagging as if Maze had already requested her return to the underworld. 

Linda knows he doesn't mean the statement literally. Lucifer would still have her and Chloe and Amenadiel, but he and Maze are special in their own right. No one knows Lucifer like Maze does. They've been through Hell together and that wasn't just a metaphor. 

“What if she doesn't?” Linda suggests. “She’s living in a stable environment with the detective and her daughter, she has a job, and friends.” 

Lucifer looks over at Linda with surprise that fades into thoughtfulness. 

“What if she's made a home here as much as you have?” 

“I hadn't quite thought of it like that.” Lucifer admits, dumbstruck. 

Linda hesitates before trusting her gut instincts and plowing ahead. “If I invited Maze in, would you want to show her your wings?”

He thinks about it just long enough Linda thinks she might have misstepped. 

“Yes.” he decides. And then he stands there like he's about to face a firing squad. 

Linda gets up and opens the door. Maze is lounging on the couch in perfect nonchalance, her ear buds playing music loud enough for Linda to hear the tinny melody from where she stands. Linda wonders if that’s just Maze’s habit or if it was an endeavor to give Lucifer and her greater privacy. Maze senses Linda as she approaches and plucks out an ear bud. 

“You guys done already?” she asks incredulously. 

“Actually, I want you to come inside. Lucifer has a few things he would like to talk about with you.” Linda explains. 

Maze wears an expression halfway between fear and curiosity. “Allllllright.” she agrees slowly. She gets up from the couch and walks around to follow behind Linda and into the office.

Lucifer stands there, pensively shifting his weight from foot to foot. He looks up as they enter the room and looks back down at his shoes on the carpeting as Linda closes the door as softly as she can behind them.

“Linda said you wanted to talk?” Maze asks, voice slightly confrontational.

Lucifer winces, but launches into it without further delay. “Yes, yes I did. I do.” he huffs, frustrated with himself. “Maze, something happened to me out in the desert that you should know about. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I - I should have.”

“What is it?” she asks, wary from being caught off guard. 

He hesitates. “It changes nothing, you understand? What I said before is still true, I would never abandon you, not unless you asked it of me.” 

“Lucifer, you're starting to scare me.” she says, trying to play for humor, but falling flat. 

He lets his wings materialize once more and Maze freezes.

“How?” she breathes in horror. 

Linda doesn't understand how someone can look at those gorgeous starbright wings with such grief and revulsion, but Maze does. The wings lower and pull inwards, clustering as much as they can behind his back, telegraphing in a way Lucifer's completely blank face does not. He stands there, awaiting her judgement.

Maze steps forward and reaches out, but does not touch. “What did they do to you?” she asks with pity. His mask cracks.

“Maze, _Mazikeen_.” he says, voice raw and broken. 

“Did you ask for this?” And there is something thunderous in her gaze because she knows the answer. 

“No.” he replies, head bent in something almost like shame. And, oh god, Linda hasn't even thought of that, of the violation he might feel, of someone doing to this to him without his consent, against his will. Maze steps closer and cradles his face in her steady hands and he curls into her. Linda wishes to comfort him, but doesn't risk breaking into their moment. 

It dawns on Maze, then, what having his wings back grants him and connects the dots. “It was you, wasn’t it?” Maze says suddenly. “It was you who healed Linda.” with something as close to awe as she is capable of in her voice. 

He looks up at her with dark, solemn eyes. His wings lift from behind him a bit hopefully, feathers moving with a soft rustling noise. “Well, yes, but -” 

He's cut off by the fact he has a sudden armful of demon. Her arms are loose around his neck, a comforting touch, not a threatening one. It's nearly a hug and Lucifer slowly brings his hands around her and holds her close. He knows Maze, knows her down to the conviction he weaved into her bones, the thirst in her blood. But he's forgotten that she's changed just as much as he has since their time on earth.

“Thank you.” she whispers tremulous and unabashed in his ear. She leans back just far enough for him to get a good look at her, eyes suspiciously shiny and a smile on her face. She leans forward to place a soft, chaste, kiss to the corner of his mouth and drops back to the ground. 

“You don't have to -” he starts, hands at Maze’s elbows, his voice falling into a murmur. “Of course I would, _of course_ -” and then he says a string of words in a language Linda doesn't recognize, but that make Maze’s mouth tremble. 

“I won’t cut them off.” she says with quiet determination. “Please. Don’t ask me to do that to you again.” Maze barely keeps her voice from shaking.

“When did you get to be such a disobedient little thing?” he teases, trying to lighten the moment.

“Lucifer.” she responds, requiring him to answer.

Lucifer smiles sadly. “Yes, I thought that might be the case. I won’t ask it of you.” His extra limbs nearly plaster themselves to his spine. “But, Mazikeen,” he says, and he takes in a shaky breath, tries to shore himself up for what he’s about to say, about to offer. “With my wings back, I could - if you wanted.” His voice cracks. “I can travel to Hell again.” he finishes, waits for her to understand.

“ _Lucifer_.” she says, her voice low in a way that would mean a threat if she were talking to anyone else.

“I know you miss it.” he tries to explain.

“I do miss it.” she says, and she _does_. Sometimes there are nights where she would like nothing more than to feel a wicked soul underneath her blade, the hot splash of blood, the crunch of bone and the vindication of punishment. Times where all she wants is to fight and kill and gloat. Lucifer smiles in understanding. In his weaker moments, sometimes he misses it as well. 

But then Maze looks over at Linda, bright, _good_ Linda, who is her friend - and smiles, a quirk of her mouth. Then there is Chloe and the little spawn to think of as well. “But I would miss being here, too.” she turns back to Lucifer and raises a scarred eyebrow. “If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay. For now.” she allows. 

Now his own eyes shimmer with emotion, soft and wet. “I would love nothing more.” 

The demon laughs, wiping at her eyes. “Look at us.” she says, “We’re a mess.”

Lucifer looks at her with tenderness. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Having fully reached her feelings quota for like, _ever_ , Maze takes the opportunity to sock Lucifer in the arm. “With those feather dusters of yours back, I expect you to replace any of my knives.”

Lucifer winces and rubs where she has most assuredly bruised him. “Fair enough.” Seeing Linda's politely intrigued look he explains. “Maze's demon blades are forged from my own feathers, that's why they can harm the nonhuman.” 

“Really?” Linda says, eyebrows raised. 

“Really.” Maze confirms. She reaches out and touches his wing with the tips of her fingers gliding down the soft, interior feathers. They spread under her touch while Lucifer coughs in embarrassment. Maze grins wickedly at him, but drops her hand and lets him be.

“Any other potentially life changing events you want to let me in on?” Maze directs towards Lucifer with a smirk.

“Well, I intend on telling the Detective the truth, proving it to her.” Lucifer admits. He remembers how Maze had reacted after Linda had been confronted with the gravity of what they were.

Maze juts her jaw out and appears to contemplate her answer. “Alright.” she says and Lucifer hadn’t realized that Maze’s disapproval had been a weight on him till it lifted. “But I want to be told in advance beforehand. To deal with the fallout.”

“Deal.” Lucifer agrees.

“Well, I think this has been a very productive session.” Linda says with cheer, drawing the conversation to a close. “But I think we could all use a drink.”

“Now you’re talkin’.” Maze grins ferociously. 

“My dear Linda, you are a saint.” Lucifer breathes as Linda proceeds to show them the way to her well stocked liquor cabinet.

***********

Chloe hums under her breath as she cleans up from dinner, scrubbing at a pan as Trixie draws at the table, little feet idly kicking at the chair. She glances over at the clock. 

“Trixie, it's time to go get ready for bed.”

“But mom!” Trixie protests. 

“Nuh-uh, it's a school night. Go put your PJs on.” Chloe refutes firmly.

Trixie pouts a little, but does as she's told, scampering off to her room. Chloe puts the pan in the sink to soak and dries her hands off. With small, prying eyes safely elsewhere, Chloe opens the fridge and pours herself a glass of wine. She fills it generously and then takes a few gulps. 

She takes a seat on her couch and feels her muscles finally relax after a long day. Another mouthful of wine and she lets her head fall back against the couch, neck going slack. 

A few minutes later, Trixie comes bounding out of her room and launches herself towards her mom, jostling her with childish enthusiasm. Holding her wineglass safely out of reach to keep from spilling, Chloe watches with affection as her daughter snuggles up to her. 

“Can I watch a show before bed?” Trixie asks.

Maybe it's the wine or Trixie's big brown puppy eyes, but she concedes. “Oh, alright.”

“Yay!” Trixie crows victoriously. 

“Only one!” Chloe is quick to say, but it does nothing to curb Trixie's excitement. 

Trixie quickly gets an episode of K.C. Undercover queued up from the DVR and settles back with only a minimal amount of sharp elbows. 

“Was your day at work bad, mommy?” Trixie asks cautiously, eyeing Chloe's drink choice. 

“No, it was fine, Monkey.” Chloe says. 

“I know it was supposed to be your day off.” Trixie adds with a sympathetic expression.

“It was.” Chloe agrees. “But it's okay, because it means I will have the whole weekend free to spend with you.” she says, reaching to poke Trixie in the side, prompting giggles and squirming that nearly upends her glass. 

“Do you think we could go see Lucifer?” Trixie asks brightly. 

“Um, maybe.” Chloe hedges. “There's actually something he wants to talk to me about, but I don't know what it is yet.”

“It's a secret?” Trixie is suddenly way more interested. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Chloe's face settles into a frown. 

“Is it a _bad secret_?” Trixie asks in a whisper upon seeing her mom's face. 

“I don't know, baby. It might be.” Chloe says. “Would you mind if Maze or Julie watches you for a little bit when I do talk to Lucifer?”

Trixie pats Chloe's leg with a knowing expression that looks too old on her face. “It's okay, mommy. I understand.” 

Chloe narrows her eyes, unsure what her daughter is implying. “Do you.” 

“Well, if it's a secret, that means only you can know.” Trixie says like it's obvious. 

“Right, of course.” Chloe says, relieved. Trixie gives her mom a look like _Chloe_ is the one being silly and refocuses on her show. 

When it ends, Chloe's glass is empty and Trixie is blinking slow and heavy. Chloe clicks it off and the living room falls into darkness. “Ready for bed, Monkey?” “Yeah, I guess so.” Trixie replies.

Suddenly there's a yelp and then a loud crashing noise from outside that causes both of them to jump in fright and then freeze. There's a few quieter noises of something outside and Chloe grips Trixie tightly.

“Mommy?” Trixie whispers, dark eyes huge. 

“Stay here, baby.” Chloe says, hating having to get up and leave as her daughter’s grip squeezes before letting go. “Mommy's going to go look, okay?” 

It's moments like this that Chloe has really appreciated living with a ninja, bartending, bounty hunting woman. But Maze was staying the night with Linda and there was no one in the house but her and Trixie. 

Chloe turns the flashlight of her phone on and tucks it into her front pocket to illuminate ahead of her and retrieves her gun. She clicks the safety off and moves cautiously to the door. She opens it as quietly as she can and steps through, every sense heightened with danger. 

She walks quietly around the outside of the house, her socked feet making next to no noise as she pads softly forward. “Who’s there?” Chloe calls out challengingly. “Come out where I can see you.” 

But there's no response. Chloe turns the corner to see the garbage bin turned over. Her flashlight illuminates the ground, revealing large paw prints. Her gut says _wolf,_ but her mind quickly refutes that as impossible and corrects to _large dog._

She breathes out a sigh of relief, letting her gun arm relax. She clicks the safety back on and tucks the weapon into her waistband. She lowers herself down to examine the tracks closer. Someone's pet must have gotten loose and tried to retrieve a snack from their trash without results. 

Still, the prints seem...really big. And strangely shaped. There is a odd dragging pattern along with them, like the dog had been pulling something behind it. Maybe it's leash had gotten caught in something like a branch and the poor thing was trailing it behind them. It would explain the excess of noise. Chloe stands and looks around for any sign of the animal and doesn't see anything. Chloe walks a perimeter around the house to be safe and, relieved it was nothing more, heads back inside. 

From above, crouched in a tree, two, round, glowing eyes watches her. “ _Mistress_.” they whisper into the dark.

“Mommy?” Trixie calls as Chloe enters the house. 

“It’s just me, Monkey.” Chloe reassures as she removes her gun and places it on the counter. She takes her phone out and turns the light off. Trixie runs up to her, bare feet slapping noisily against the ground and tackles her mom’s legs. 

Chloe looks down at her and smoothed a hand down Trixie’s head. “It’s okay, it was just an animal getting into the garbage. Nothing to be scared of.” 

“Really?” The word is muffled against the material of Chloe’s pants and Trixie’s grip doesn't decrease. 

“Yeah, baby. How about you sleep in Mommy’s bed tonight, huh?” Chloe suggests, knowing they would both feel better if they were in close proximity. 

Trixie nods her head against her and Chloe can't help but smile at how adorable it is. “C’mon. Let's go.” She hoists her daughter up on her hip, back muscles protesting a bit and walks to her bedroom. “It will be like a little slumber party.” she enthuses. 

Trixie lays her head on Chloe’s shoulder and burrows into her hair. “That sounds fun, Mommy.” Trixie says, clearly tired. 

“It does, doesn't it?” Chloe says. 

Trixie falls asleep curled up in her mother’s protective hold. As for Chloe, sleep doesn’t come easily, listening for the slightest sounds. Eventually, though, her own exhaustion and the slight snores coming from her daughter, lure her into slumber’s easy embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoilers: it wasn't a dog


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Chloe work the case and Amenadiel is annoying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so...i split the chapter again. Sorry! but that does mean another chapter will be here much sooner!! Thanks to thewhitewolf2486 for the piano knowledge. And thank you to all you lovely readers for your kudos and comments.

Chloe wakes suddenly, abruptly, a prickling feeling all over her skin. She takes a moment to listen, but all she can hear is her own breathing. She rolls over to look at the numbers on the clock. It’s about twenty minutes before her alarm is set to go off. Might as well get up. 

“Mommy?” Trixie says, still mostly asleep.

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’m going to get breakfast started.” she says. She slips some socks on to her feet and tucks the blanket around her daughter more securely, dipping down to plant a kiss in Trixie’s dark hair.

She steps carefully out of the bedroom and pads over to the kitchen, still on high alert. There's a small creaking noise from outside that could be just the noise of the structure settling, but it makes Chloe jump. She takes a deep breath and opens the fridge to start frying some bacon. She's just setting the strips onto the pan with a hiss when there's sounds from outside that can't be brushed off as apartment noises. There's scratching at the door, the knob rattling. 

Heart pounding, Chloe creeps forward and collects her Glock, taking up position near the counter. She brings the gun up right as the door bursts open, revealing a startled Maze. Maze instantly ducks out of the way, rolling and coming to a stop a few feet away, blade in hand. 

Chloe lowers the gun quickly, shocked at herself. Maze pops up to her feet. “What the hell, Decker?” 

“Maze!” Chloe says, hastily setting the gun on the counter, safety on, “I am so sorry, I just - there was noises around the house last night and I’ve been having this feeling like someone has been watching me.” the words pouring out of her before she can help herself. 

Maze goes from offended to concerned to angry with rapid pace. “Someone’s been watching you?” she asks seriously, striding close. 

Chloe pushes her hand to her face and then up into her hair. “No. I don't know, maybe?” She lets her hand fall. “It’s stupid.” 

“Not if it's upsetting you, it isn't.” Maze says, drawing a smile from Chloe. It's amazing how both Maze and Lucifer, despite the appearance of selfishness, really come through and say the right thing when she needs it. “Want me to take a look around?” Maze asks with a raise of her scarred eyebrow.

“Would you mind?” Chloe says, feeling relief sweep through her.

“Not at all.” Maze says, twirling a knife.

“I’ll have bacon ready for you when you get back.” Chloe promises in payment, which makes Maze’s eyes light up. Now she’s almost too eager to patrol around the place and slips out the door quickly. Chloe’s phone buzzes and she reads a message from Ella saying she should have a report put together for them when they come into work this morning. Chloe copies the message to Lucifer who responds with a quick affirmative. 

Chloe goes back to the kitchen and finishes the bacon and begins on the pancakes, adding chocolate chips to Maze and Trixie’s. Speaking of, she hollers for her kid and the sound of feet can be heard padding out to the kitchen.

“Pancakes!” Trixie cries with exultation. Chloe plops a plate down in front of her and chews on a piece of bacon while heating up a mug of syrup. She watches her daughter with an eagle eye as Trixie pours a generous amount of if all over her pancakes. 

Maze comes back in and gets a plate placed in front of her too.

“Thanks, babe.” Maze says, immediately chowing down. “I checked the perimeter, but I didn’t find anything.” she pauses, frowns. “Something seemed off, though. I’ll keep an eye out.” Maze speaks around a cheekful of pancake.

“Thanks.” Chloe says appreciatively, sliding over the promised bacon. Trixie, having scarfed down her pancakes and is now licking the plate, gets told to go get ready for school, which she does only after the last traces of syrup are gone. Chloe checks the time and has to get ready also. 

“Go,” Maze says, “I’ll clean up.” Although her nose crinkles even as she says it.

Chloe squeezes Maze’s arm in a quick gesture of thanks and appreciation before darting off to shower and get ready for work. When she returns the dishes are soaking in the sink and everything is put away. Maybe she shouldn’t be, but Chloe is surprised. She turns to Maze.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks.

Maze puts on a look of offense that is the exact mirror of Lucifer’s and Chloe can’t help but snort. “Maybe I just wanted to do something nice.” Maze says flippantly. 

“Oh.” Chloe says, a little surprised but willing to reward good behavior. “Well, thank you very much, Maze.”

“You’re welcome.” Maze says perfunctorily and then ignores Chloe in favor of the television. 

“Will you be here all day?” Chloe asks. Trixie runs out, dressed for school and only slightly mismatched. 

“Nah, I got a job later, tracking down some scumbag.” Maze says, grinning wickedly. “But I have a solid lead, so I should be back by tonight.”

“Alright, well, have fun.” Chloe looks down at Trixie. “Ready, monkey?”

“Yep!” she chirps brightly.

“Got your homework?”

Trixie nods.

“Go hop in the car, then.” Chloe says, giving her a nudge. “Bye, Maze.”

“Bye, Maze!” Trixie echoes, halfway out the door.

**********

Lucifer paces back and forth on the phone, doing his level best to wear a path in front of the penthouse bar. He glances up when the elevator doors ding and Amenadiel steps through. Great. His brother is like a bad penny. Lucifer holds up a hand asking for a moment. His brother dips his head in acknowledgement and takes a seat. 

“No, no, no. That's unacceptable.” Lucifer’s words into the receiver are sharp. “That's nearly _twenty-five thousand_ more. Look, just put Derek on the phone, I've dealt with him before.” He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Well, I don't know! How many Derek's can possibly work there?” Lucifer halts in his pacing and blinks. “Oh.” he says, “Really? How unusual.” 

Amenadiel snorts quietly to himself and Lucifer ignores him. 

“Yes, well. The Derek with the green eyes and pert arse. You could bounce a quarter of that thing.” Lucifer says with some admiration. The person on the other line appears to be familiar with that Derek, yes. “Excellent. Put him on for me.”

Lucifer keeps the phone tucked next to his ear, but diverts his attention to Amenadiel. “What can I do for you, brother?” 

“What makes you think I need something?” Amenadiel asks. 

Lucifer looks at him skeptically. “Well, it's not like you ever come here for a social call.” he replies. 

Amenadiel seems almost ashamed by that observation. Lucifer is right, though. He doesn't come around just to check in. 

Lucifer would have liked to take some time to examine that reaction, maybe needle his brother a little bit about it, but someone picks up on the end of the phone and his attention is diverted. “Ah, yes! Derek, darling.” Lucifer purrs. “So good to finally get a hold of you. I've got an order to put through and the little creten on the phone was not going to give me my usual rate. Quite hurt my feelings, it did. I thought we had an understanding.” Lucifer pouts. 

Derek is quick to reassure Lucifer that, yes, his standing price remains the same and that they are terrible sorry about the confusion.

“Wonderful.” Lucifer grins. “Same model as last time. When can it be delivered? Tomorrow? Yes, that should be no problem.” Lucifer says, mentally adjusting his schedule. “You still have my information? Anything else you need from me? No? Well, thank you ever so much, Derek.” Lucifer says, laying the charm on thick. He hangs up and taps over to the calendar app and inputs the appointment. 

“Bloody hell, that was a nightmare.” Lucifer says, digging his thumb into his eye where a phantom pain lingers. 

“Everything alright?” Amenadiel asks carefully.

“Yes, quite. I’m just reminded why I usually have Maze work logistics.” Lucifer says, sliding his phone in his jacket pocket. “Now, I don’t believe you said the reason for visiting.”

“I had some things I wanted to talk to you about.” Amenadiel says. Lucifer is actually surprised, though he does his level best not to show it. It’s not often he and Amenadiel are civil enough to each other for extended conversation, though things had been getting better. Maybe this is the moment he’s been looking for.

“Yes, there are a few things I want to tell you as well.” Lucifer says slowly. He feels the invisible tug of his wings. Perhaps Linda is right and he should trust others more. Still, hesitation grips him. “You first.” Lucifer prompts.

Amenadiel flashes him a bright smile. “Well, what I wanted to talk about is our Father. Now that He is taking an interest -”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lucifer cuts in, his feelings of brotherly affection suddenly dissipating. “Are you _still_ banging on about Dad? I thought I told you-”

“Lucifer, it’s obvious that Father is once again active on earth.” Amenadiel cuts in with that superior tone of voice, looking like he pities Lucifer for not understanding. It makes Lucifer’s blood boil.

“What makes you say that?” 

Amenadiel either doesn’t hear the low hum of danger in Lucifer’s voice or chooses to ignore it.

“Well, I know you may choose to believe otherwise, but it's clear that He is responsible for the healing of Dr. Martin.” Amenadiel says, a bit condescending.

“Is it now?” Lucifer says through gritted teeth.

“Of course, and with the return of my powers-”

“Your powers have returned?” Lucifer is suddenly hyperfocused on Amenadiel, intense enough the older brother shifts a little, uncomfortable.

“They have, limitedly. But I am sure they will increase to normal strength over time.” Amenadiel says with self assurance, but there’s insecurity around his eyes. 

“And your wings?” Lucifer asks. “Have they returned as well?”

Amenadiel looks away. “No. They haven’t.”

Lucifer has so many different emotions churning in him that he isn’t sure _what_ he feels. There’s anger at the talk of Father, guilt about his own powers returning to a fuller extent than Amenadiel’s and a vain pride that he has his wings and Amenadiel doesn’t. In the end, he settles on bewilderment.

“Regardless,” Amenadiel says, sweeping past the moment. “Father’s will for us is clear.” 

Scratch bewilderment. Anger is what Lucifer is feeling, definitely. At least it's an emotion he's familiar with. 

Lucifer snorts. “Truly?” he asks with as much sarcasm as he can layer on. “Well, forgive me for not leaping to accomplish it. I’m afraid I have a prior engagement, working to catch a murderer, you know. Not something dear old dad would be interested in.” 

“Lucifer!” Amenadiel calls after him as he leaves. Amenadiel is dismissed with the sight of the elevator doors closing and Lucifer not even bothering to say farewell. Amenadiel sighs and lets his head drop into his hands. So much for that talk.

************

Lucifer arrives at the station in a whirlwind of activity, looking a bit wild around the eyes. He spots Chloe and strides over. Taking note of his demeanor, she cranes her neck up to read his expression.

“Woah, everything okay?” she asks.

“Yes, fine.” he says, a bit clipped. Her look turns into a glare. “Just a disagreement with Amenadiel.” he admits, cowed.

“You’re disagreements usually end in blood.” she disapproves.

“Yes, well. Not this time.” he smiles tightly. “Not that I would have minded.” he mutters under his breath. 

She comes around her desk to his side, touching his arm. “Really, Lucifer. What’s going on?” 

He softens at her concern. “It’s quite alright, really, Detective.” he says and this time he seems sincere. “Amenadiel was just returning to his holier-than-thou days and irritating me. Nothing more.”

She seems suspicious at the easy surrender, but lets it go. “Ella says she has something for us.” Chloe says, changing the subject.

“Yes, right. Shall we go see what the little scientist has found?” he raises his brows and gestures for her to proceed ahead of him.

Ella is bopping to her music and doesn’t notice them standing nearby for a moment before startling comically and yanking the earbuds out.

“Guys! Hi!” Ella greets, enthusiastic. 

“Hey, Ella.” Chloe returns, finding her morning chipperness sweet. 

“What have you got for the Detective and I, my dear?” Lucifer asks Ella, fond.

“Oh, well, here look.” she says and pulls up the autopsy photos. “First thing, there were defensive wounds underneath the Professor’s clothes.” she says, bruises and a few lacerations standing out against the pale skin of his arms. 

“So he fought back.” Chloe says.

“As well as an unarmed man can against a gladius.” Lucifer notes.

“Exactly, and here we found bruising underneath his hair.” Ella clicks the corresponding photos showing a long, vaguely rectangular purple blotch. She walks over to the desk and hefts the sword responsible, still encased in an evidence bag. “So here’s what I think happens.” she says and points the sword at Lucifer.

“You’re footwork is all wrong.” he critiques, looking down his nose.

“ _C’mon_ , man. Just let me enjoy this.” she implores. He holds his hands up and makes no further comment. 

“So, it looks like there’s an altercation,” Ella says, stepping closer to Lucifer who eyes her warily. “Prof. Jerry tries to defend himself,” Ella mimes a few slapdash slashes towards Lucifer’s person. He makes the obliging defensive movements, arms up and dodging. “And he gets whacked with the flat of the blade upside the head, falling unconscious.” Ella brings the sword up, the length of the blade making up for the height difference between her and Lucifer. “And Jerry goes down.”

“Then the killer plunges the sword into his chest.” Lucifer finishes. “Not exactly an easy feat to accomplish, all together.”

“No.” Ella turns to Lucifer. “And it’s not something an amerature or with an academic knowledge of swords could do. You’re definitely looking for an experienced swordsman, or woman,” Ella acknowledges, “with a grudge against the Professor.” 

Chloe looks thoughtful. “Jerry’s wife said that he met other weaponry enthusiasts at his roleplaying thing.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re planning on paying them a visit, isn’t it?” Lucifer grins.

“Aw, how come you guys always get to do the fun stuff?” Ella whines.

********

It’s a little bit of a drive out to where the StormFist Guild gathers, but Lucifer’s thoughts are on his conversation with his brother and he doesn’t bother the Detective overly much.

“Did you study swordplay?” Chloe asks, suddenly, dragging him out of his mood.

“Hm? Oh, well, not what you would consider formally.” he replies. “But all angels know the basics. Point of pride for them, for all that they never get to actually _use_ their swords.”

“Right, of course.” Chloe nods like that’s totally understandable. “So you and your brother can both swordfight.”

“Yes, of course.” Lucifer responds, a little huffily. He’s not sure what she’s insinuating. He would rather like to beat Amenadiel over the head with a sword right now and he could do it with the proper footwork, too. 

...Hang on.

Lucifer gets his phone out and starts texting. He promised a sword match to Ella after all. Maze agrees to bow out, but only on the condition she gets to watch, which, of _course_ she would be permitted to watch. The more people to witness his brother’s humiliation at his hand the better. Next, he sends a carefully worded message to Amenadiel, speaking of his promise to Ella and the lack of swordsmen proficient enough to match him. He tucks the phone back in his pocket and waits for his brother’s honor and pride to get the better of him. 

Looking up he sees rows of cars and a few stragglers to the events decked out in fantasy and medieval regalia. 

“Oh, hello. I do believe we are at the right place, Detective.” Lucifer says, watching as a female dressed in a blatantly incorrect approximation of a demon struts by. She winks as she passes and Lucifer offers a little wave.

“Unbelievable.” Chloe mutters to herself and gets out of the car. She asks around and it seems there’s already a mock battle going on in the woods and meadow spread out before them. The shelter where they all meet up afterwards is on the other side, naturally. 

“I’m sorry, are you seriously saying we have to tromp through the woods?” Lucifer says, protest clear on his face. 

“Lucifer -” she begins, already feeling the headache build behind her eye.

“No, Detective, these are Louboutin’s.” he says gesturing towards his feet and lifting one slightly off the ground, revealing the red sole. “These are nine hundred dollar shoes, one does not just _traipse_ through the forest in these shoes.”

“You literally visit _murder scenes_ in those shoes.” Chloe counteracts. “Besides, it’s not a forest, it’s just a few trees. It’s faster to cut through than to go around.” and then she proceeds forward without looking back, certain he will follow.

Lucifer huffs, whines just a little, and then takes off after her. “Detective!” he calls. “Don’t just leave me here.” but he catches up quickly enough, even if he does look distastefully at the ground. 

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Chloe teases.

He gives her an aggrieved look. “The things I sacrifice for you.” he says with a touch of melodrama. She looks down, but he catches the edge of her grin. They trek through in companionable silence, Lucifer doing his best to avoid scuffing his shoes too terribly. 

There’s a loud crashing noise through the foliage that brings them to a halt, and Lucifer has an arm out in front of Chloe instinctually shuffling her behind him at the supposed danger. A young man bursts from the trees wrapped in armor spray painted silver. He stops at the sight of them and then launches himself into character.

“Stand down, foul beast, or I shall be forced to send you to the vile realm from whence you came.” the warrior says, sword raised in valiant offense at Lucifer. 

“Haha, very funny. Been there, done that.” Lucifer says. “Sorry, but we aren’t part of your little game. Now, if you could just direct us -”

“Fair lady,” the man interrupts. “I have never seen one so beautiful as you, you shine like the daybreak.”

Lucifer huffs and Chloe snorts from behind him. 

“Fear not! I shall rescue you from this monster so undeserving of you and...”

Lucifer goes still. The rest of the man’s sentence is lost on him, fading off into meaningless prattle. “Alright, that's enough.” Lucifer snaps. No little idiot with a sword made of foam will speak to him like that. 

“Lucifer.” Chloe says half warning, half exasperation.

Lucifer stalks forward, ignoring it. “I have been hunted by opponents far more worthy and dangerous than you.” he sneers at the man. Lucifer steps in close, letting the tip of the fake sword rest against his chest and allows his eyes to burn fiery red. “So, if I were you, I would watch my tongue.”

The warrior screams and scrambles away. “Don’t! Don’t hurt me, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!”

Lucifer doesn’t move towards him, but Chloe is there with her fingers gripping his sleeve tightly and tugging him back. “What did you...” but she trails off, not really knowing if she wants an answer. He looks back at her with normal, brown eyes, defiant, daring her to finish her question.

“Everything okay over here?” a new voice calls and then a woman is trampling through the trees towards them, breaking up the standoff. 

She’s dressed in a similar manner as the young man, but all her armor is dark brown leather and her ears have delicate points applied to them. She halts and takes in the situation, and sighs, resigned. To her it looks like an angry boyfriend and Todd making an ass of himself like usual.

“Again, Todd?” she says. The supposed Todd whimpers in response. “Did you punch him?” she asks Lucifer, looking at how Todd has backed himself up against a tree and is huddled near the base.

“I didn’t lay a finger on him.” Lucifer replies. Chloe’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t refute his statement. 

“You got to stop hitting on clearly taken women, Todd. It’s not healthy.” the girl chides him.

“Oh, um, we’re not-” Chloe protests instantly.

“The Detective doesn’t need my help fending off unwanted advances.” Lucifer say, displeased on Chloe’s behalf.

“Right.” The girl stares at the two of them and then shakes her head. “Are you new? I think I would remember someone like you.”

“Yes, I suppose we are.” Lucifer says, rocking on his toes.

“Just saying, if you can scare Todd this badly you would make an excellent addition to the Horde.” she says, eyes on Lucifer. 

“Really?” Lucifer seems surprised by the complement.

“Oh yeah,” the girl nods enthusiastically. “Very menacing.” she says and gestures to Lucifer’s person. “And seductive.” she bites her lip.

“We’re looking for whoever is in charge of this event.” Chloe says suddenly, cutting into whatever was happening here.

The girl blinks, having almost forgotten that Chloe was there and then blushes. She’d pulled a Todd. “Yes, sorry. Of course. That will be the Masters, the bout will be over in a few minutes and then it’s lunch time. You should be able to find them then, no problem.”

“Thank you, good madam.” Lucifer says with proper decorum.

“Not a problem. Sorry about Todd, he get’s a little _too_ into the knight in shining armor bit.” she apologizes. “I’d head to the lunch area now unless you wanna risk getting bopped on the head with a sword.” The girl points them in the right direction.

“Thanks, we’ll do that.” Chloe says, and drags Lucifer along by sleeve. “I can’t believe you.” 

“What?” Lucifer protests, “I was just having a bit of fun. Getting into character as it were.”

“I thought you said LARPing was for pathetic losers who can’t handle reality.” Chloe growls.

“I changed my mind.” Lucifer says smugly, “Plus, you know me, Detective. I’m always up for a little role play.”

“You do have an air of a damsel in distress about you.” Chloe returns with mock thoughtfulness.

Lucifer feels briefly offended before grinning. “I’d let you climb my tower anytime, Detective.” and he gives her his best smoldering look.

“Gross.” Chloe remarks, but it’s served the purpose of dissipating the tension and restoring them to their banter.

Lucifer manages to startle a laugh and elicit three separate grins from Chloe by the time they reach the designated meeting spot and is quite pleased with himself. There’s a loud call and then people are picking themselves up off the ground where they had been ‘slain’, dusting off clothing and helping others to their feet. There’s a few concession stands already prepped for the sudden lunch rush and many players seemed to have packed their own as well.

Soon the shelter is loud with chatter and the sounds of lunches being opened. Chloe isn’t very hungry yet, but does buy a bag of chips to snack on, protesting as Lucifer steals one. He crunches happily while she glares. She gives in to the inevitable with a sigh and tilts the bag towards him. Between the two of them the finish off the bag quickly and Lucifer licks the salt from his fingers. 

“Should we find out who the ringleaders of this event are?” Lucifer asks, catching a bit of salt on his thumb. 

“Hm?” Chloe hums, distracted by him. He realizes the same time she does and she quickly reigns herself in.

“Detective!” He grins. 

“No.” she holds her finger up, but she avoids meeting his eye. “No.” she repeats firmly and he subsides with a pout. He does make a mental note, though. 

Chloe stands and throws away their trash and takes a few deep breathes to get a hold of herself. She gets back to work by asking the players nearby for the Master’s and gets directed towards a group of people peering at various stacks of papers spread out across a picnic table.

“If we put Diane and the rest of the NPC’s here for the quest, they can direct -” the man speaking doesn’t see them until the woman next to him elbows him hard. “LaShonda!” he objects. The woman nods her head at Lucifer and Chloe, both of them looking rather out of place, one in a suit and the other with a gun and badge.

“Hi. Detective Chloe Decker, I’m looking for the Masters?” she asks, tuning out Lucifer who is rather gleeful about this whole thing now.

“That’s...us.” the response comes slowly. LaShonda elbows him again. “Right! Sorry, yes. I’m Jonathan, this is Lashonda and that’s Daisy and Luke.” he introduces the people around the table. “What can we help you with?”

“Have you heard about what has happened to Jerry Lowrey?” Chloe starts. She’s met with looks of polite curiosity. “He was killed, found yesterday afternoon.” she says, breaking the news to them as gently as she can. Shock is followed swiftly by sorrow and Jonathan puts a hand to his mouth.

“We wondered when he didn’t show up today, he always comes early to help set up.” Daisy, a shorter, dark haired woman says. 

“It’s not like him to be unreliable.” Luke murmurs, eyes glassy.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Chloe says respectfully. “We’re investigating his death and have a few questions.”

“Of course, Detective.” Jonathan says, pale but holding himself together. “Whatever we can do to help.”

“Was there anyone he was particularly close to? Or anyone he had difficulties with?”

“Like Todd, perhaps?” Lucifer adds. Chloe levels him an unimpressed look and Lucifer does his best to seem innocent.

“No, everyone loved Jerry. He was a real asset to the Guild, helped out with set up, making the replica weapons, coming up with quest ideas.” LaShonda tells them. “A real team player.”

“Replica weapons?” Chloe asks.

LaShonda pulls her sword from her belt and holds it out. Lucifer steps forward to take it. It looks fairly realistic, enough to be mistaken for an actual blade until touched. It’s merely foam and rubber, artfully painted. “He helped make this one, custom.” she tells them.

“It’s beautiful work.” Lucifer says and returns the sword to her.

“His wife mentioned he met up with other weapon enthusiasts here.” Chloe says. “Anyone come to mind?”

Luke laughs weakly. “We’re all enthusiasts here, Detective. Comes with the territory.” 

“Is there anyone in the Guild familiar with actual swordwork?” Lucifer asks. 

“Well, if you’re looking for someone with experience handling a real blade, you’d have to talk to Tom.” Jonathan says.

“Tom?” Chloe repeats.

“Yeah, he’s just over there.” and she points to a large hulking man bent over a table with a few others.

“Thank you.” Chloe says and steps away.

“It’s got to be him.” Lucifer says with sudden certainty, crowding her side.

“What? How do you know?” Chloe responds skeptically.

He looks at her like he can’t believe her audacity. “Tom?” he says. “And _Jerry_? It’s like it was meant to be.” he says, his eyes too earnest and his mouth curling at the very edge.

Chloe makes a sound of disgust at him and turns to go speak with Tom.

“I bet it was real cat and mouse, too.” Lucifer says, clearly having way too much fun.

“Tom?” Chloe approaches. The man looks up. 

“That’s me. What can I do for ya?” he asks, a soft scottish accent coloring his words.

Chloe introduces herself again and explains the circumstances of what brings her here. Tom seems quite saddened by the news as well.

“Ah, I knew something to be wrong.” he says, “Jerry usually calls me the night before and I hadn’t heard a peep. I called him this morning, but no answer. ” 

“So you didn’t have any ill will towards Jerry?” Lucifer questions, egging a bit.

“Not even a little.” Tom replies, puzzled.

“Anyone here at the Guild who did?” Chloe asks. 

Tom folds his arms and thinks. “Not in the Guild, no.” he says. “Have ya spoken with that young fella? The one that had a tiff with Jerry last week? Cornered him in the parking lot just as he was leaving. Great big thing, it was. Thought it was going to come to blows. Never seen two people so red in the face.”

“What young man?” Chloe asks, intent.

“I don’t know, he’d never been around before. Taller, skinny. Brown hair, wore glasses.” Tom describes and that does sound familiar. “I asked Jerry about it later, but he said it was nothing, just something to do with work.” Tom says.

“With work?” Lucifer repeats, coming to the same realization Chloe is.

Chloe fumbles quickly though her phone and scrolls through her work photos. She finds the one she’s looking for and zooms in on one face in particular. She turns the phone towards Tom. “Is this him?” she asks.

Tom studies it for a moment and nods. “That’s the lad.”

Chloe turns the phone towards Lucifer, confirming just whose face it displays.

“Matthew Barnes.” he says, low.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and we have our murderer!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe and Lucifer track down their murderer, Amenadiel faces his brother in a sword fight and a mysterious individual arrives at the precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is, a little late, but hopefully just as enjoyable

Lucifer and Chloe leave the shelter area immediately after their conversation with Tom. 

“Veronika told us that sometimes Lowrey and Barnes would have mock sword fights in class.” Chloe says, jogging swiftly through the trees at a pace just shy of reckless. They’ve got to get back to the car. She’s on the phone trying to connect, but the signal is spotty.

“He’s a professor of history as well, he would be familiar with such armaments.” Lucifer adds, long legs eating up the ground without regard to his footwear. 

“Come on, connect you stupid thing.” she growls under her breath. Her toes nearly snag on a root and she stumbles, Lucifer catching her with an iron grip at her forearm.

“Alright?” he asks, dark eyes concerned.

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.” Chloe nods quickly and he releases her. She dusts herself off and they continue on. As they break through the trees the line connects. “This is Detective Chloe Decker,” she rattles off her badge number and begins issuing a BOLO for Professor Matthew Barnes as a suspect. “Yes, his address should be on file.” 

Chloe listens and then tucks the phone against her head with her shoulder so she can get out her car keys and unlock the doors. She relaxes abruptly. “Yeah. That's great. Thank you.” she hangs up and gets inside her squad car, Lucifer only moments behind.

“They’re sending officers to his home.” Chloe tells him, starting the engine.

“To arrest him?” he asks.

Chloe nods. “Now all we’ve got to do is get back to the precinct and hopefully he’ll already be in lock up waiting for us.”

“Quite a neat little operation.” Lucifer says, content. “Not that I don’t doubt Matthew being the man responsible, but what drove him to murder the Professor?” he muses.

“Could be envy.” Chloe puts forward, maneuvering back on the highway. “He was most likely to inherit Jerry’s position in the History Department.”

Lucifer hums. “People have certainly killed for less.” he agrees. “The little miscreant even tried to throw us off his trail by illuminating the Professor’s marital issues.” he says, miffed. 

“Yeah, well. Didn’t matter in the end, did it?” Chloe says. “Not with us on the case.” she says tossing him a little grin.

“You’re quite right, Detective.” Lucifer returns, pleased.

*********

They chat lightly as they drive back. With officers on the lookout for Barnes, there’s not much more they could do to assist. With no need to rush back, Chloe is taking the roads at normal speed. 

They discuss the case briefly, Lucifer complains a little bit about his shoes now that the time for haste has passed and only pauses in his whining when his phone buzzes. It’s Amenadiel. 

Lucifer grins as he reads. His brother has fallen hook, line, and sinker for it and graciously agreed to partner Lucifer in a swordsmanship exhibition. Lucifer replies back letting Amenadiel know that their case should be wrapped up by this evening and a more specific time will be provided.

“You seem suspiciously happy about something.” Chloe remarks, narrowing her gaze at him.

Lucifer tucks his phone away. “Yes, well, sometimes things just fall into place, Detective.”

“Oh yeah?” she prompts, but Lucifer only grins, unforthcoming. She rolls her eyes at him. “Well, here’s hoping that continues. We could use a bit of that.” she remarks.

Lucifer hums noncommittally. He looks over at her as she yawns, wide enough to make her jaw crack.

“Long night?” Lucifer asks, curious. His detective isn’t one to have much of an afternoon slump.

“Sort of.” Chloe says, reaching into the center console for a piece of gum. “It was a bit of a sleepless evening. There were some noises outside last night, but it was probably just a dog or a raccoon getting into the trash.” At seeing Lucifer’s concerned eyebrows, she adds. “Maze took a look around, said she would keep an eye on it.”

Instead of soothing his worries, Chloe’s statement has only fueled them. “Maze is not one to state such a thing lightly. If she said she would keep an eye on it then there was something she believed needed eyeing.” He frowns. 

“I dunno, Lucifer. She was really nice this morning.” Chloe remarks.

“Nice?” Lucifer repeats, baffled. Why on earth would Maze attempt to be nice?

“Yeah.” Chloe tells him of Maze’s slightly uncharacteristic generosity, the patrolling, the dishes, which makes Lucifer go suddenly, oddly quiet. Ah.

“It could be she’s trying to make a good impression on you, Detective.” he says carefully, unsure how to explain it while tiptoeing around the truth. 

Chloe snorts. “Isn’t it a little late for that?” she replies a little sarcastically. Chloe knows how Maze can be, she _lives_ with her. 

“I-” Lucifer stops and reorders his thoughts. “Just remember that she can be capable of good. That, while Maze _is_ tempestuous and sharp, she is also protective and kind to those she views as her own.”

A little surprised at the sudden candor, Chloe looks over at him, but his gaze is on his hands lying in his lap. “I know, Lucifer.” Her words are soft. “I do know that.” 

He nods and Chloe isn’t able to pursue this line of conversation further because her phone rings. She hits the bluetooth.

“Decker.” she answers, a little sharp.

“Detective Decker, this is Officer Diaz. We found Barnes at his place of residence, but he managed to engage one of the boys in a scuffle, got loose and fled.”

“What?” Lucifer objects plaintively.

“Is anyone hurt?” Chloe asks.

“No, ma’am. Alexander sprained his ankle, but it’s nothing serious.”

“Good. Have forensics go over his place, see if they can find anything. Call the University, send some boys out to see if he tried to go there. Keep the BOLO active until he’s found.”

“You got it.” he answers and clicks off.

“That gangly little teacher seems to be awfully slippery.” Lucifer reproaches.

Chloe sighs. “We’re close by. Can you think of where he might have gone?”

“Well. There’s only one other place I can think of if he’s not at the school, Detective.” Lucifer answers.

She eyeballs him. “And where’s that?”

“Where they all go, my dear.” he says with proper flair. “Back to the scene of the crime.”

Chloe blinks at him and then swings the car around in a U-turn that has him bracing against the door. Lucifer grins.

***********

Chloe pulls up to Jerry’s apartment half a block away. She closes the door to the car quietly and walks over to the building. They head inside and up to the door. The yellow crime scene tape flutters, cut. The door is slightly ajar.

Chloe reaches back and unclips her gun from its holster, finger off the trigger, but near it. Lucifer creeps quietly behind her. She pushes the door open with her toe, gun up and out. 

“Barnes?” she calls out. “Come out where we can see you.” She proceeds further inside, turning the corner and she sees him.

Matthew Barnes is standing near Jerry’s desk with his back to them, probably in the same exact spot he stood when he plunged a sword into a man’s chest. Barnes stares down at the bloodstain on the floor.

“Barnes.” Chloe says again, but there isn’t any response. 

“Why’d you do it, Matthew?” Lucifer asks over her shoulder. Chloe turns and levels a glare at him. He just looks back at her impertinently. She places a hand out to move Lucifer back a little, better angled behind her, pushing at his chest.

Matthew flinches like it’s the first time he’s actually heard them. 

“Why’d you kill the Professor?” Lucifer repeats. Chloe can feel the way the sound vibrates through Lucifer and takes her hand back. 

“It wasn’t fair.” comes the low response, ragged.

“What wasn’t fair, Matthew?” Chloe asks.

“All he did was play games, that stupid pretend _shit_.” Matthew growls. He turns towards them, body twisting and light catches the blade in his hand. His eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot. Chloe clicks the safety off. “And here I was slaving away and getting _nothing_.”

“What was it that you wanted, Matthew? Go on, tell us.” Lucifer coaxes, voice going honeyed.

“I just wanted to be recognized.” Barnes says imploringly. “I could never get published on my own. Paper after paper and he just -” he cuts himself off and twitches. “All the praise went to him, even if I did the work. I confronted him about it and he said -” he laughs, breathless and dangerous, “- he said I needed to work harder. While he was dressed up _as an elf_.” 

Chloe doesn’t notice when Lucifer leaves his spot behind her and starts to flank Barnes.

“Well, I showed him. All that pointless practise and what did it get him? A sword through the heart.”

“Not much of a fair fight, Matthew. Was it?” Lucifer asks from where he’s stepped to Chloe’s left. She looks over at him, furious, but unable to give up her position. She knows what Lucifer is doing - distracting, focusing the subject’s attention on himself so Chloe has a clear line of sight - but that doesn’t mean she has to like her partner’s stupid, suicidal streak. “An unarmed man against a gladius.” Lucifer continues.

Matthew turns towards Lucifer and that’s it, that’s what she’s been waiting for and she moves quickly into position. “Maybe you’d like to try your hand at it.” Barnes sneers in response, lifting the sword.

“I’m getting real tired of having sharp, pointy objects directed my way,” Lucifer says with irritation, “but if it hasn’t escaped your notice, Matthew, you’ve quite _literally_ brought a knife to a gunfight, if an especially large one.” 

“Drop the weapon, Matthew.” Chloe repeats, voice hard. 

She can see when he makes the decision not to, the slight shift in weight, the tightening grip on the hilt. He lunges forward and Lucifer dodges backwards. Chloe squeezes the trigger, catching Barnes in the shoulder. The force of it throws him into a spin, and he loses his grip on the blade and it skitters to the ground. 

Lucifer calmly steps over to where it had fallen and places a foot on it, eliminating any chance Matthew might have at recovering it. 

Chloe steps forward to check on Matthew. He’s clutching his shoulder with gritted teeth and tears are streaming down his face. 

“You bitch.” he gasps.

Lucifer growls a warning, looming, and Matthew goes even paler. 

“Matthew Barnes, you are under arrest for the murder of Jerome Lowrey.” Chloe announces, satisfaction and adrenaline thrumming hot and triumphant through her. She meets Lucifer's eyes and he grins, similarly vindicated. 

**********

Back up arrives minutes later with the EMTs. They give Chloe and Lucifer a cursory look over and patch up the bullet wound inflicted on Matthew. It’s a graze, but a deeper one. Once it’s packed with gauze and the suspect is stable, they let the cops lead him away, cuffed. 

“Well, that was exciting.” Lucifer says, way more happy about having his life threatened than anyone sane should be. 

Chloe rolls her eyes. “C’mon. Back to the precinct for us. We still have to formalize it all.” 

Lucifer crinkles his nose. “Very well, Detective. And I have yet to fulfill my promise to Ella.”

“You're really gonna go through with that? Was just now not enough swordfighting for you?” Chloe asks, exasperated.

“It's quite different when I'm armed as well, I assure you.” Lucifer simply says in a way that sets off alarm bells in Chloe’s head. “Besides, a promise is a promise.” and then he retreats back to the car, texting. 

**********

Matthew knows things aren’t looking good for him. He’s been treated at the hospital, stitches and rebandaged. A sling holds his arm in place. He’s had his rights read to him, was offered a lawyer, which he’s subsequently turned down. He sits there in the interview room, pale and sullen. His top lip is dotted with perspiration and his fingers twitch.

“I want to make a deal.” he says, first thing when Chloe and Lucifer sit down.

“With what information, Matthew?” Chloe asks. “You admitted you killed Professor Lowrey. Both I and my partner heard you. You’ve interfered with the investigation, even threatened an officer with a deadly weapon.” she says, stretching it a bit.

Lucifer raises his eyebrows next to her, but doesn’t interfere with her narrative. 

“You’re going away for a long time, buddy.” Chloe adds. “The best thing for you to do now is come clean. Maybe a judge will take pity on you and reduce the sentence.”

“I’ve heard honesty is a good policy. Judges seem to like it.” Lucifer puts forward. 

Matthew licks his lips and shifts forward. “Yeah, okay. Okay.” he nods. “I’ll say what happened. Admit...admit to what I did.”

Chloe slides a notepad forward. “Good choice, Matthew. Good choice.”

He begins writing. 

**********

Somehow there is already a little arena set up when they exit the interview room, a circle shaped space marked off and far too many cops loitering obviously near it. 

Chloe levels a glare at Dan who is looking far too shifty and strides off to reprimand him. She gives her ex an earful about protocol and giving into Lucifer’s delusions. Dan finally gets her to stop when he says he was just trying to do something nice for Lucifer. She remains deeply suspicious and leaves to try and sway Lucifer from going through with it.

He’s standing at her desk when she tracks him down, wading through the crowd of cops who suddenly have the free time to come watch.

“You don’t have to do this, you know. I can tell them to back off.” Chloe says instead. Lucifer folds his jacket and leaves it neatly on Chloe’s desk and begins rolling up his cuffs. Chloe definitely does not ogle his forearms, she _doesn’t_. 

“It’s quite alright, Detective.” he replies, unconcerned.

“Are you _sure_ this is okay?” Chloe asks, arms folded unhappily across her chest.

“Yes.” he says, reaching out to grip her elbows, giving her a gentle little shake. “I’m actually looking forward to it.” he confides. “Go on, join the others.” he tells her and makes a shooing motion at her. 

She turns to leave and then angles back towards him and touches him. He looks up, surprised. “You'll be careful, right?” she asks.

His eyes soften. “Of course, Detective.” 

She nods, pulls her hand back and leaves to join the others. 

**********

Lucifer heads to the lab where Ella awaits, having removed the confiscated swords from Jerry’s collection and liberated them from the evidence plastic.

There's quite a few to choose from, spread out over the evidence table. Ella is practically vibrating with excitement as Lucifer peruses, long elegant fingers drifting along the edge of a blade now and then. 

He selects one, feels the heft of it, frowns and puts it back. 

“Not right?” Ella asks. 

“No, I need something a little more...” he trails off and picks up a different blade, a little longer, a little lighter. “Like this.” he says with satisfaction. He does a little warm up move and grins. 

“Is this the selection available?” comes his brother's deep voice, causing Ella and Lucifer to spin around. 

“Brother!” Lucifer greets, feeling a mix of elated and vindictive at the coming match. He sets the sword down and moves toward him. Lucifer claps his hands on Amenadiel’s broad shoulders and steers him over to the table. “I'm afraid it's not quite as good as steel you've forged yourself, but it will have to do.”

“Are these evidence in a case?” Amenadiel asks, a little put off by the stack of evidence bags nearby. 

“Oh, they were. Yeah.” Ella answers. “But don't worry! They didn't kill anybody. I checked.” She looks over at Lucifer. “I checked.” she assures. 

“I know you did, darling. You are ever diligent in your work.” he praises. 

Ella beams at the compliment. 

“I’ll be waiting for you on the battleground, brother. Ella will show you the way.” Lucifer intones, picking up his chosen blade and dipping his head in farewell. 

Lucifer walks, sword in hand, to the little setup that has been provided. He catches some of the junior officers placing bets, but only chides them lightheartedly before placing one of his own, on himself - of course. He’s able to see some of the detectives have gotten in on the action as well when he catches sight of the books.

“Twenty on Amenadiel.” Dan walks up to the group. 

“Really, Douche? I’m hurt.” Lucifer pouts. 

Dan smiles, all teeth. “You kidding? I've seen the size of your brother, I'm taking the safe bet.” he says just loud enough for the others to hear. 

There's a brief and hushed shuffle as more bets are laid and changed. Lucifer raises a brow at Dan’s underhandedness. Dan moves closer, delicately avoiding the sword Lucifer still carries, and leans in. 

“You think you can win?” he asks lowly.

“I know I can.” Lucifer replies, confident. 

Dan nods like that was the answer he was expecting. “I put a hundred on you under Chloe’s name.” 

“Oooh, very crafty, Daniel. I approve.” Lucifer commends slyly.

Dan shrugs a bit, but seems good-humored about it all. He pats Lucifer on the shoulder. “Put on a good show, yeah?”

“Oh, I intend to.” Lucifer replies. He takes his place in the circle and scans the crowd for Chloe but doesn’t see her. He tries to swallow his disappointment as Amenadiel joins him.

***********

Chloe spots Maze on the outside edge of the circle of cops and heads over, surprised to see her watching instead of in the ring. Her roommate looks positively thrilled watching Amenadiel take up position across from Lucifer, tongue running over her teeth.

“Excited?” Chloe asks, amused by her clear anticipation. Maze nods, tearing her eyes away from the two men.

“Hell yeah.” her mouth curls deviously.

“I thought you were going to be the one up there.” Chloe says. 

“Oh, I was.” Maze returns, “But Lucifer and I have known each other for too long. The match would either last a minute or an eternity and neither makes for very good sport.”

“And it won't with Amenadiel?’ 

“Nah, Lucifer has the edge. They both know the structured fighting Heaven instructs its angels in, honorable, _boring_.” Maze explains. “But Lucifer learned how to really fight in Hell. He had to.” 

“So you bet on Lucifer.” Chloe says, resigned to the fact that money will be changing hands. Her fellow officers are not half as subtle as they think they are. 

Maze snorts like it’s a dumb question. “Just who do you think taught me what I know?” Maze asks and Chloe blinks. “Of _course_ I bet on Lucifer.” Maze responds like it was a no-brainer and wasn’t that just a terrifying thought.

“Dueling rules, right, Lucifer?” Amenadiel says loud enough for the sound to carry, looking a bit nervous now that he’s here and facing his brother with an audience. “Not battlefield rules.” 

“Battlefield rules?” Chloe asks Maze, curious.

“Battlefield rules they would _genuinely_ be trying to kill each other. It would mean when they get in close, instead of backing away, someone would throw a punch or a kick. And Lucifer fights _dirty_.” Maze explains with relish. “It's more self preservation than anything on Amenadiel’s part.” 

“If you wish, brother.” Lucifer replies and there’s something dangerous lurking in the corner of his smile. 

They circle for just a moment before Lucifer is darting forward, blade arcing smoothly through the air. Amenadiel parries and tries a slash of his own, but Lucifer dances out of reach.

“See?” Maze says, voice low in Chloe’s ear. “Lucifer would have won, right there.” 

“Really?” Chloe asks, wondering how she'd missed the opening. She narrows her eyes and watches more closely.

“Yeah, he'd have popped Amenadiel in the face with his elbow and slit his throat on the follow through.” Maze says, sounding downright cheerful.

“That quick?” Chloe is surprised and a little squeamish at the thought. 

“Oh yeah. He's not being serious up there, he's playing.” Maze’s smirk curls at her mouth.

And Chloe can see what Maze means, the flash of Lucifer's blade matching the glimpse of his grin, hard edged and glinting. Amenadiel attempts to use his strength to his advantage, but Lucifer is far too quick for him, always just a bit out of reach. It’s clear who’s the more worthy contender, like watching a panther play with a housecat.

“Come now, brother. Surely, that's not all you've got.” Lucifer mocks. 

Amenadiel’s face twists up in a snarl, sweat beading at his temples. He charges forward recklessly and Lucifer dodges with quicksilver steps. Then he puts Amenadiel on the defense, agile flicks of the blade, rapid stabs, but never near enough to draw blood and bring the match to an end, just enough to antagonize. 

The cops watching are all rapt, entranced with the scene before them, cheering and oohing appropriately. Lucifer finally catches sight of her and Maze in the crowd and winks at them, blocking instinctually when Amenadiel tries to use Lucifer's distraction to his advantage. Lucifer tuts at his brother.

“That wasn’t very sportsman-like.” 

“Then end this farce of a match.” Amenadiel growls, thoroughly done with being taunted.

“If you like.” Lucifer responds, and then in a move so smooth and fast it nearly blurs, he has Amenadiel disarmed and Lucifer’s sword at his throat. Amenadiel freezes and swallows, the swordpoint bobbing with the motion.

“To first blood, wasn’t it?” Lucifer asks, something dark and sinister in his eyes. Chloe watches, hardly daring to breathe. The room falls silent.

Lucifer flicks his blade down and slices a thin line on Amenadiel’s arm, harmless.

Chloe lets out a shaky breath. Maze rolls her eyes and looks disappointed. 

“I’ve won.” Lucifer says, like it holds more meaning than the victory of a little exhibition match.

Amenadiel stares at him with coal black eyes. “Have you?” he asks. Lucifer’s grin falters a little at that. Amenadiel bows deeply and leaves in the crowd of cops. Lucifer watches him go.

*********

Dan is grinning as he collects on his bets, ignoring the few dirty looks cast his way. Maze is counting up her money with delicious glee, bill after bill. Lucifer joins them, a few more buttons undone, sweat glistening in the hollow of his throat. Maze hands him his cut and he tucks it away, sharing a lecherous grin with her.

“Lovely, darling.” he murmurs. “Just how many poor humans did you swindle?” 

“Most.” Maze says triumphantly, startling a bark of laughter from him.

“Mmm, yes. Daniel seems to have been quite successful in his endeavors as well. How naughty.” Lucifer teases.

“I believe those are my earnings, Detective Espinoza.” Chloe says from behind, sidling her way into the group.

Dan looks caught out. “But -”

Chloe simply plucks the money from his hand, counts out her share and places the remainder in his still outstretched palm. “Or was the bet not in my name?” she asks, brow arched, daring him to contradict her.

He deflates and grumbles, but shoves the rest of it in his pocket.

“Oh, well done, Detective.” Lucifer says, smarmy. She looks at him with pretend haughtiness and returns to her desk. She’s got to get started on the paper work and Lucifer’s little display with his brother has only served to distract her from it. 

Lucifer must have found some way to entertain himself, because she has nearly two entire hours of peace and quiet to get the work done. Or, more likely, he’s sequestered himself away in order to avoid having to do any of it himself. Still, now he sits, strangely patient, at the side of her desk.

Chloe finishes filling out a series of boxes and reaches a stopping point, turning her attention to her partner.

“Did you need something?” she asks, not unkindly.

“I- now that the case is closed, Detective.” Lucifer starts, “Chloe.” he corrects and the use of her name seems to startle them both. He clears his throat. “I just think we really need to have that talk. I need to be honest with you.” he says, looking like he’s just pried his ribs open and he’s terrified she will gut him.

“You’re right. I have to finish up this paperwork, but I have tomorrow off.” she says, “I could... swing by Lux in the morning?” Chloe offers gently. 

He grins, relief and nervousness both. “Yes. That would be great, lovely even. I’ll - I’ll make breakfast!” he replies, exuberant. 

“That sounds nice.” Chloe says and bites down on her bottom lip, and it’s unintentional, she’s not trying to tease him, really. Still, she can’t help but feel a little satisfaction when his eyes drop to her mouth and he wets his lips. He forces his gaze back up.

“Right. Well, I guess I will be going, then.” he says, bringing his hands together and slowly stepping back in a show of self control. “Until tomorrow, Detective.” he farewells, eyes sparkling.

“Tomorrow.” she replies, something like hope blooming in her chest.

**********

Chloe has just finished sending off the last form with a vicious click of her mouse. It’s late, and she should really be getting ready to head home. She stands, cracks her back and wanders over to the coffee machine. It’s fairly shit coffee, but it does the trick of being warm and caffeinated as it slides down her throat.

She goes back to her desk and straightens the stack of papers, setting her cup down. There’s movement out of the corner of her eye and she turns.

The man approaches slowly, warily. He’s dressed shabbily, sleeves pulled over his hands. He looks nervous. It’s enough to make Chloe’s instincts bristle, trickling down her spine. 

“Can I help you?” she asks, reminding herself that she’s in the precinct surrounded by fellow cops.

“I’ve come to beg favor from the Mistress.” he says in a voice that rasps like it hasn’t been used before.

“I’m sorry?” 

“I’m not supposed to - he told me to stay. I’m a good boy, but I didn’t - the Master will be angry.” The man falls to his knees in front of Chloe causing her to jerk backwards, knocking over her cup of coffee and spilling it down her desk. The man reaches for her legs, clawing. “ _Please_ , Mistress.” 

Chloe stumbles and tries to kick the man away, but he continuously strives to plaster himself to her legs. Another cop notices the commotion and shouts. Two patrol cops are there, trying to pull the strange man away from her, but he fights and snarls, snapping his teeth at them. They wrestle him into a set of cuffs and the frantic energy suddenly vanishes from the man. He goes limp and bows his head as low as he can, nonverbally begging for forgiveness.

Dan jogs over. “What the hell?” He places a supportive hand against Chloe’s back, her lungs heaving in aborted panic, heart beating wildly in her chest. “Are you alright?”

She nods, gripping Dan’s shoulder tight as she regains her composure. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

“He didn’t hurt you?” Dan asks, looking her over briefly.

“No, just startled me.”

“Who is he?” Dan questions, getting down to business, looking over at the man with no recognition.

“I have no idea.” Chloe says, bewildered. 

“Let’s find out, then.” Dan says with determination. He directs his next words at the two cops holding the man. “Put him in interview room 3.”

Chloe takes a minute to gather herself together, still engaged in her flight or fight response, and then, along with Dan, heads to interrogation. The man is slumped in his chair, forlorn. He’s got a fair amount of scruff and his hair is dark and matted in contrast to his spilled milk complexion. Homeless, would honestly be Chloe’s first thought.

He perks up immediately upon their entrance, his feet tapping the floor in an odd gesture of childish excitement. Dan sits and reads the man his Miranda Rights, but the stranger’s eyes never waver from Chloe. Dan and her exchange a glance and decide on a strategy. Good Cop, Bad cop. It’s well known, but it works.

“Don't worry, you're not in any trouble. We're just going to have a quick chat, clear some things up, okay?” Chloe starts. 

The man nods, managing a small smile. Dan continues his steely glare. 

“Did the cops hurt you?” Chloe asks gently.

The man wiggles a little, making the chain hooking him to the table rattle with the motion. “No, Mistress, it would take much more to harm me.”

“Mistress? Why do you call her that?” Dan asks and while the man’s pale eyes flick towards Dan, he doesn’t reply.

“It’s alright, you can answer him.” Chloe soothes.

The man pauses uncertainly, but must trust her word and does as she says. “Because she is the Mistress.” 

“Is this some BDSM thing?” Dan directs the question more towards Chloe who is just as baffled as he is. She shrugs. 

“She is the Mistress.” The man seems distressed and unable to explain any further, curling into himself. 

Something clicks, some intuitive instinct pulling thoughts together. 

“Have... Have you been following me?” Chloe asks slowly, certain puzzle pieces lining up. The odd noises around her apartment, the prickly sensation of eyes looking at her.

The man nods eagerly. “Yes, yes. I watch, I wait. I - I didn’t want to frighten you.” The man looks contrite. “Wanted to - to guard. Like I'm supposed to. I frightened you anyway. Master will not be pleased.”

“Who’s the Master?” Dan asks.

The man hesitates. “He is the Master.”

“Master of what?” Chloe asks, doing her best to keep her voice soft, even as frustration threads through it.

“Of me, of us all.” the man replies, like his words are undeniable truth. 

“Who is the Master?” Dan questions sharply. “What is his name?”

“He is Our Lord Below, Lucifer Morningstar.” 

“Oh, Jesus.” Dan swears with rolled eyes, aggrieved. The man flinches away from the epitaph.

Chloe sighs and presses a thumb against her eye socket where she can feel a headache building. “I’ll call him, you stay here with...him.”

She gets up from the table and leaves the room, the man watching her go forlornly. She leans against the wall, hits speed dial and waits for Lucifer to pick up. “Why, hello there, Detective! I thought you had paperwork to do.” he greets, and then his voice drops low and playful. “Or did you miss me already?” 

“Not quite. There’s a man here, Lucifer. Just showed up at the precinct. He seems a little...unhinged. He keeps insisting you're his Master? He’s apparently been following me for a while.” Chloe explains. She pauses, her fear coming through her next words. “He was at my house, Lucifer. He was right outside.” the words spilling out before she can stop them, more shaken than she realized. 

“Where is he?” Lucifer asks with sudden sharpness. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.” she says even though she clearly isn't. “He just - he just startled me. He's in interrogation with Dan, but he's not causing any trouble so far.”

“Be careful, Detective. He might be more dangerous than you think. I’m on my way.” he hangs up. 

Lucifer shows up way faster than he should have been able to, looking rather windblown, his hair more curly and unkempt than he usually allows it. 

“Lucifer.” Chloe says, surprised at the speedy response time. 

“Where is he?” he asks instantly, striding powerfully forward. 

“It might be nothing, Lucifer. Could just be another fan boy of the Devil.” she tries to brush off, alarmed by his demeanor. 

“I think I’ll make that call.” Lucifer says, still looking fairly murderous. He proceeds towards his goal with single minded determination, Chloe fast on his heels. 

Dan is standing in the hall, expectant look on his face. Lucifer breezes past him and Chloe stops near Dan, hand reaching out to touch where his arms are crossed defensively over his chest. 

“Watch from the glass, won't you?” 

His posture relaxes slightly. “Yeah, of course.”

Lucifer steps into interrogation just ahead of Chloe and instantly his anger is wiped away with surprise and then his face suffused with a deep concern like she’s never seen. He utters a word, a name, not in any language Chloe has ever heard and it makes her think of spilt blood under moonlight. The man in the chair trembles. 

“Aamon.” Lucifer says gently, oh so gently. “How are you here? It should be impossible.”

“Master, forgive me. I did not stay -” the man begins to babble in the disjointed way of his. Lucifer strides up to the table and presses his hand against the other man’s cheek. Aamon pushes into it, shamelessly. 

_So, they do know each other_ , Chloe thinks. She discreetly takes her seat. 

“It’s alright, now. I'm here. Just tell me.” Lucifer requests, his voice soft. 

“We - we felt it, Below. When you came into heavenly power.” Aamon starts hesitantly. Lucifer stiffens, the angle of his shoulders held tight. When Aamon begins to clam up, he rubs a thumb along the man’s face, reassuring. 

“I’m not angry with you, pet.” he tells him and Chloe starts wondering if this _is_ a BDSM thing. “Go on.” Lucifer prompts. 

“The Chains rattled and the Gates loosened. Many began to try and slip through, but I _didn’t_.” Aamon says, as if that part was the most important. “I _stayed_ , but you also told me to watch, and more and more began finding the way through and I thought -” 

“You did fine, Aamon. You’re a good boy.” Lucifer praises and Aamon nearly shudders with delight. “But why didn’t you just come to me? Why follow Detective Decker?”

Aamon casts his eyes downwards. “I feared punishment for my disobedience. We have heard tales of the Mistress.” Aamon says, missing the warmth of his Master’s palm when the hand drops away, but he continues. “That where you are Just, she is Merciful. I thought - I thought she might soften your anger. Please, don't be mad.” 

*********

In the room behind the glass, Dan watches with folded arms and sharp eyes. Just what the hell is Lucifer in to? Masters and mistresses, is the whole Hell mythology code for something else? Some organized crime empire? And now Lucifer has got Chloe somehow tangled up in all of it. 

Dan exhales loudly though his nose. 

The door opens and an officer peeks their head through. “Detective Espinoza? Detective Delaney needs you for a moment.” 

“For real? Right now?” Dan asks with disbelief. 

The officer grimaces. “‘Fraid so. Apparently, it can't wait.”

“Unbelievable.” Throwing his hands up a little in frustration, Dan leaves the interview room and heads over to find what Delaney could possibly need. 

**********

Lucifer studies the man while Chloe studies him. She rests her eyes on him, curious and calculating, both. Whoever this man is, he's elicited more of an emotional reaction from Lucifer than she's ever seen before. Surprise to joy to concern with rapidity. Now Lucifer’s temperament has cooled into something dangerous and no one besides her can seem to see that. 

“Those that have escaped...they know of her?” Lucifer asks, deceptively calm. 

Aamon nods rapidly. “Yes, my lord. But none would dare harm her. We know well the wrath you would bring down upon any who tried. We heard tale of how you sent your mother away, banished for her machinations and slew your own brother, the angel, for her.” Aamon seems particularly in awe.

“What?” Chloe asks furiously, Lucifer avoids her eyes. 

“That’s enough.” Lucifer says sharply. Aamon winces, lowering himself, making himself as small as possible. 

“Sorry, Master.” he whimpers. 

Then everything Chloe has believed and understood about the world gets dashed into pieces.

Because suddenly it’s not a man sitting across the table from her in the interrogation room. It’s something else. In the blink of an eye, the human visage melted into something with far too many teeth and red, wet eyes leaking fluid down into dark fur, hands replaced with massive paws. Something that isn’t remotely human. 

Instinctual human fear, like ice in her veins, screams danger. Chloe jumps away, knocking her chair backwards, and draws her gun in the space of a breath. She stares at it in disbelief. It can't possibly be real, but of course it is. Everything makes sense in perfect, horrifying, clarity. 

It’s all true.

“Put that away! You’re scaring the humans.” Lucifer snaps and the tone makes Chloe recoil too, but the thing’s features return to normal. Aamon cringes, pressing his face against the table, regular human eyes squinted tightly shut. 

But Chloe knows what she saw. 

“What in God’s name.” she breathes, panic thrumming in her ears. 

“God had nothing to do with it.” Lucifer seethes. He gets to his feet slowly, trying to keep from startling Chloe any further, her gun still trained on Aamon, arms so tense they shake. 

“Will you be pressing charges, Detective Decker?” Lucifer asks her, the syllables hard. 

“What?” she asks, confused by this whirlwind of events. 

“Will you be pressing charges, yes or no.” Lucifer asks more impatiently this time. 

“Um, not - No.” Chloe says, the words stumbling out gracelessly. 

“Right. Now that you’ve caused me far more trouble than you’re worth,” Lucifer says to Aamon, overly careful. “I think we shall be going. Come on, boy.” he commands, holding his hand out and giving a ‘up’ gesture. 

Aamon stands up, easily snapping the chain holding him to the table as if it were no more inconvenient than twine. He hesitantly nuzzles at the proffered hand and falls into line behind Lucifer as they leave the interrogation room. 

Chloe sits there, stunned, before vaulting out of her chair and after Lucifer. 

“Lucifer!’ Chloe shouts after him, but he doesn’t slow his pace. “Lucifer.” 

They're causing turned heads throughout the precinct, but Chloe doesn't care, charging after the long legged man with a purpose. She catches him nearly at the exit. “Lucifer!” she strains, snatching at his wrist. 

He comes instantly to a halt at her touch, his wrist slack in her grip, though they both know he could easily tear himself free, superhuman strength or no. He doesn't turn to look at her, offering only a profile. 

“So...you really are the Devil.” Chloe says with finality. 

He closes his eyes like he's in pain, the whole line of his back pulled taut. “I told you over and over, countless times - but did you believe me?” He huffs a humorless laugh, filled with despair. “You thought I was _delusional_ , or - or abused.” 

He turns to her, anguished. “But we were -” his sentence cuts off abruptly and his throat works. “So I thought, well, Chloe’s right, I can’t keep going backwards, I’ll have to prove it to her, but then you kept putting me off.”

“Lucifer-” Chloe starts, but there is no stopping him.

“And now look at where that’s gotten us. All my efforts ruined by some _dog_.” Lucifer says with gritted teeth. Aamon shrinks under the glare. He sighs then, looking so tired that Chloe believes he’s millennia old. 

“Let me go.” he says quietly, looking down at where her hand still encircles his wrist.

And in her shock, she does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe goes to Lux for answers, but may not like what she finds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we earn the angst tag this chapter

Dan walks back towards the interview rooms quickly, irritated by how much time Delaney has forced him to waste already. Instead of heading back, he sees Chloe is standing in the lobby near the doors, looking oddly blank. 

What is she doing over there? Dan walks over and Chloe hardly even acknowledges his presence, eyes focused on some middle distance. _Shock_ , Dan would normally say, having seen it in countless witnesses. It’s unnerving to see Chloe so out of it. 

“Chloe?” Dan asks cautiously. He touches her and she flinches wildly away. He takes a step back, hands held harmlessly out to his sides. “Easy, Chlo. Just me.”

She still looks a bit wild around the eyes, but they’re present now, focused. “Dan.” she says, voice strange. “Dan.” she repeats, more firmly. 

He smiles a little, trying to strike that balance between teasing and soothing. “Yeah. Dan, that’s me.”

Her gaze suddenly sharpens, fever bright. “Did you see?” she asks him. “In the interrogation room, did you see?” her words almost frantic. She grips at his arms just hard enough that he doesn’t like it.

“See what?” Dan asks, gently shaking himself loose from her hold. “Chloe, what is going on?”

“You didn’t see.” Chloe realizes, withdrawing. 

“No, I had to help Delaney. They pulled me out of interrogation.” Dan says, displeased. “Where’s Lucifer?”

“He... He left.” Chloe says slowly, voice hollow. 

“He just left? Without saying anything?” Dan scrunched his brow in confusion. Yeah, the guy was flighty, but even _that_ seemed unusual for him. 

“He took the man -” she trips over her words and continues through it like it didn’t happen. “Took it back to Lux with him.” 

“What?” Dan feels indignation burst in his chest. Lucifer couldn’t just take crazy people out of custody like that, even if everyone else practically fell to their knees for him.

“It’s not important -” Chloe starts.

“Not _important_.” Dan objects, ready to get fired up about this.

“Dan - _Dan_ , I need you to go get Trixie.” Chloe says, words rushed.

“What?” He feels like he’s two steps behind wherever Chloe is at.

“I need you to go get Trixie and take her back to your place, okay? Please. I need to know she’s safe.” Chloe insists, vehement.

Dan is immediately concerned. Chloe doesn’t joke around when it comes to Trixie’s safety. That crazy guy _did_ say he had been following Chloe. After their scare with Malcolm, Dan can’t exactly blame her. “Yeah, okay.” he assures, running soothing hands down Chloe’s arms. “I’ll go get Trixie right now, all right? My shift’s over. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

Chloe laughs, breathless and slightly hysterical, which only has Dan more worried for her. 

“I have to go - go see Lucifer - I have to know.” she says disjointedly. “I have to know.” she says again, as of to convince herself of it. 

Utterly bewildered by what’s going on and not fully understanding it, Dan goes with what he knows best - following Chloe’s lead. 

“Do what you have to do.” he says, supportive. “I’ll get Trixie.” 

Chloe looks at him with those eyes, the ones that seemed to strip him bare, flaying him open. He remembers when her looking at him like that was exciting, and he remembers when he used to hate it. Now, he just feels accepting, standing there and letting her see the whole of him, faults and all. She must find what she’s looking for, because she nods and then darts forward to grip him in a crushing hug. 

“You’re a good man, Dan.” she murmurs into his chest and that one single sentence sets off every alarm in his body, but it’s too late because she’s slipping from his grip and heading out the door before he can voice a protest. 

He watches her go and tries to ignore the feeling of dread in his gut. He fetches his keys from the desk and shrugs on a jacket. Dan knows that there’s not much he can do, so he’ll do what he can. Chloe asked him to go pick up their daughter - so that’s what he’s going to do. 

**********

Lux is dark when she arrives. 

There are no lines of people wrapped around the building, no glaring lights. The place is empty, alarmingly empty for this time of night, and she heads inside. The floor shows evidence that a crowd had been here at some point, but there’s not a soul in sight, no dancers, no one behind the bar. 

Chloe takes a breath and heads to the elevator, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, but there’s something building under her skin, a sensation almost like static. The elevator comes to a slow halt and the doors part. 

She steps through and sees him. Lucifer. He’s at the piano and the man from the station - Aamon, Lucifer had called him - is sitting in a nest of blankets piled in a corner. 

Chloe hadn’t come here with the intention to fight, really. But there’s something about the angle of his back turned casually away from her, the lazy tune being plucked from the piano, that sets her on edge. Like it’s just another typical evening, like nothing has changed. 

Like her worldview hadn’t been shattered and left by the wayside.

“Lucifer.” Her voice is hard. 

He goes still for a brief moment and then the line of his back relaxes. “Come to face the Devil in his den, Detective?” Lucifer asks, fingers plinking idly on his piano, hardly turning to look at her. 

“You are unbelievable.” Chloe says firmly. Lucifer plays a discordant cluster of notes, his hand hitting the keys suddenly.

“Yes, that _does_ seem to be the problem, doesn’t it?” he replies scathingly.

Chloe fumes, the sting of his abandonment flaring up. “You got a lot of nerve walking out after whatever the hell happened in that interrogation room.” 

He huffs a bitter laugh. “Whatever the hell, _indeed_ , Detective.”

“You better start explaining.” she demands, voice cold.

“Must I now?” he enunciates slowly. He reaches out and downs the rest of his drink and stands. He finally looks over at her, and lets his eyes burn red because he can now. Her heart thumps rabbit fast against her ribs. He steps from around the piano. Chloe watches him warily, but he comes no further. 

He looks at her with critical, inhuman eyes. “Well, go on then. Where would you like me to start?”

“You’re really the devil.” she says, like she can no longer escape it. 

He holds his arms out wide, looking upwards towards the heavens. “She finally gets it!” he shouts in false relief. He brings his gaze back to her. “Yes. Here I am, Detective. Satan in all his glory.” he tells her, a showman’s smile with too many teeth plastered across his face.

His glibness only serves to fan her irritation. “You lied to me.” she accuses, her hurt devolving into something ugly. 

“I did _not_!” he shouts, suddenly furious, and it makes the walls rattle. 

Aamon whimpers from where he’s curled up in the corner and Chloe flinches, but stands tall and unmoving, chin jutted forward. A brief look of pain flickers across his face, but vanishes in a heartbeat, tucked behind armor and arrogance.

“No, let’s be _honest_ , shall we?” Sarcasm makes his consonants too sharp. “I _never_ lied to you. You just never wanted to believe it, not _really_.” he says, his mockery and condescension made incredibly clear. 

Oh and now she’s mad. “You may have said you were the devil, but you keep your secrets. We both know you do.” 

“With good reason.” he snarls. 

“And I suppose you’re the judge of that.” she says scathingly. 

“Yes,” he says, “As a matter of fact, I am.” he says, jaw tilted up imperiously. 

And there's really no reasoning against that kind of haughty certainty, is there? 

“So how many other people know?” she asks, “Was it all just a big joke? Oh, look at Chloe Decker, detective extraordinaire. Can’t even figure out her partner is the devil.” she says vindictively, feeling small and stupid. 

“You think this is a joke on you?” He barks a laugh. “Believe me, Detective,” and the moniker sounds like an insult. “If anyone is the butt of this grand cosmic joke, it’s _me_.” 

She has no room to feel pity, everything else is eaten up with humiliation and rage. “Oh, right. How could I forget? It’s always about _you_.” she retorts. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.” he snaps back, prowling back and forth. “You humans preach honesty and openness, but none of you really mean it, do you? Not when push comes to shove, no. All caught up in the pathetic existence of your meager lives.”

“Oh, is _that_ how it is?” Chloe replies, mock aghast. “Well, come on, then. Let’s get this over with. Honest and open. Rip off the bandaid. How many other things aren’t you telling me?” she insists, this conversation spinning out of control. She doesn’t step back.

That must have pricked some sort of nerve - for he whirls on her. “I’ve been alive for eons, Detective. If I attempted to explain to you everything I know that you don’t, we would be here till the end of time!” 

“You are such an ass!” she hisses, moving into his space. “You omit and avoid and run away like a coward.” she says, verbally cutting into him. His nostrils flare and she can practically feel the heat emanating from his skin. “You could have proved it, all of it, couldn’t you?” Chloe asks, challenging. 

Lucifer falls briefly silent with guilt, jaw gritted. She looks up at him, eyes blazing. Bingo, she’s got him on that. However, her tone must provoke his old pride, that intrinsic, angelic superiority. 

“You think you can just barge in here demanding things of me like you have the right?” Lucifer says in a low, dangerous voice. And he’s close, _too close_ , but it doesn’t matter because Chloe’s on a roll and ignores her cautionary human instinct that is blaring at the back of her mind. 

“You’re like your little friend, aren’t you?” she spits in Aamon’s direction before turning back to him. “You could have shown me your other face and proved it at any time.”

“Shown you my face -” Lucifer’s sentence breaks off, almost too angry to speak. 

His hands are moving and for a split second she doesn’t know if he’s going to grab her, but they only hover in the air near her, clawed, before sweeping into his hair, gripping with frustration. 

“Do you have _any idea_ what showing my face does to people?” he asks. “It drives them-” he cuts himself off abruptly and steps back, hands falling slack at his sides. “No. You know what?” he says like he’s just now realized it, like it’s a revelation. “I don’t have to listen to this.” He turns and begins walking out to his balcony.

“Don’t walk away from me.” Chloe snaps, so upset that her voice wobbles. She sick of him always running from any kind of conversation and pursues his escape. “Lucifer.” she says, sharp. 

He doesn’t slow when he reaches the edge, placing bracing hands on the railing. His weight shifts.

She halts. He’s not - he couldn’t be. “Lucifer.” Chloe calls out, now suddenly worried. She takes a few steps in his direction.

Lucifer takes in a deep breath and vaults himself over the edge. 

“ _Lucifer_!” she screams, running over the balcony and looking down, only to see a huge winged creature shoot up towards the sky in a gust of wind. She cranes her neck suddenly upwards and catches the sight of fancy leather shoes and massive, white, wings before he disappears from her sight entirely. 

Chloe backs away from the railing and presses the back of her wrist against her mouth, trying not to be sick. Her stomach roils and she clenches her teeth and pushes her queasiness away with sheer willpower. She walks backwards until she hits a wall, his book shelves, and sinks to the floor. Curls up tight. She stares vacantly at nothing.

She startles when Aamon touches her hand, the movement sudden enough that it seems to have equally scared him. He creeps closer, stopping nearly where he was before, but does not touch.

“Mistress.” he says, clearly concerned. “It will be alright.” he says with the clumsiness of someone who is doing their best to comfort another, but without really knowing how. If she wasn’t a maelstrom of emotions right now, she might have even found it sweet. 

Right now, though, it’s too much. All she can remember is the phantom image of that dog creature hiding under his skin with too many teeth and too many eyes. She forces herself to her feet, away from him, stumbling before catching herself against a shelf. She breathes shallowly through her mouth, Aamon watching hesitantly, before she shoves off and moves back to the elevator.

She’s not entirely sure how she made it outside. Or how she reached her car. She realizes she’s in the driver’s seat and her hands are clenched too tight on the wheel, feeling like she’s been ripped open and gutted, like everything was pulled out only to be shoved back in wrong. She shouldn’t be driving. But she can’t stay here. 

Chloe waits for a moment before starting the engine up and pulling away from the club. She isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do now. She merges into the flow of traffic mindlessly. 

She can’t go back to her apartment, she won’t. She can’t deal with what’s waiting for her. She morbidly wonders what Maze has hidden under her skin. The blare of a horn scares her to death and she realizes the light is green and pulls forward, deciding upon a destination. 

*********

Lucifer doesn’t go far, not yet. It’s a simple swoop to the other side of his building, out of sight, but where he can still keep track of everything below. He folds his wings awkwardly against his back and crouches on the roof like some sort of modern gargoyle. 

He hears the half sob and the clatter as Chloe collapses to the ground. He wants so badly to go down and comfort her, check on her, but he _can’t_. He doesn’t have the right after what he’s done and he’s just so _angry_. 

He clenches his fists hard enough to cut crescents into his palms. He listens as she picks herself up. He listens as she takes the elevator down. He listens to the faint sound of her engine turning over and the noise as she pulls away.

His mind is stuck, repeating on loop the way she faced him down, fearless. Lucifer isn’t sure he’s ever seen anything more beautiful and it enrages and pains him. 

Lucifer doesn’t fly so much as he tears through the sky. Up and up, pushing at the limits of his body, of the physical universe, until his whole back is hot with agony, burning off that terrible rage, that inconsolable hurt. He beats his wings, gritting his teeth until he nearly passes out. Then he screams like he’s being rent in two and allows himself to fall, plummeting to the ground recklessly. 

It’s a familiar sensation. 

For a moment - a brief, ridiculous moment - he wonders what would happen to him if he hit the ground. Would the Detective still be close enough that he would be pulverized against the pavement? Would he just keep descending until he hit the bottom of Hell? 

He won’t ever know because he flares his wings out, nearly ripping them from their sockets as he fights gravity. He beats the air as he falls, slowing bit by bit. His speed is reduced enough that he lands onto his balcony without breaking his legs, but with enough momentum that he tumbles forward dangerously, very nearly snapping a delicate wing bone in the endeavor. 

He lies there on the cold floor for a moment, lungs heaving, tears wet on his face. There’s nothing left of his anger, leaving behind only regret and emptiness. Then he shudders and shifts to get his wings back behind him instead of splayed and bent. _Bloody hell_ is he going to pay later for what he put them through. For now, he vanishes them and makes his body get to its feet. 

Aamon whines nervously from where he sits on the stone step at the bedroom threshold, but Lucifer soothes him with a gentle caress over the Hellhound’s hair and down his neck. Lucifer can’t spare more than that as he drags himself to his bed. Aamon picks up the extra blankets from the study and moves them to the foot of the bed, making a space for himself on the floor. 

Lucifer drops into a restless sleep, letting exhaustion take him. 

*********

The knock at the door is almost soft enough Dan misses it. He has the TV volume on low because Trixie’s already in bed asleep, but he clicks it off and listens and - yep, there was a knock. He hauls himself upright and heads to the entrance. 

Dan opens the door to his ex wife, arms curled defensively around her chest, eyes red rimmed. He blinks in surprise and then takes in her appearance. It’s clear something terrible has happened. She offers him a weak smile that wobbles dangerously on her face. 

“Hey, sorry, come on in.” he says, opening the door wider and turning to open up the space. 

“Thanks.” she says quietly and takes a few steps inside, but no further. He closes the door and turns back to her. She’s holding herself like she’s wounded, in pain. 

He hesitates. He doesn’t want to overstep the boundaries they’ve made, but every bone in his body is yelling at him to do something. He steps closer, waits till she makes eye contact, and opens his arms wide, silently offering. 

She steps easily forward into them, face pressed against his chest. He brings his hands around her, the line of her body familiar against his own. He sighs quietly and tucks his jaw against the top of her head, hemming her in and trying to lend as much comfort as he can. 

“You okay?” he asks even though she clearly isn’t. He’s unsure of what else to say. 

“No.” she says, her voice cracking and going hushed the way it does when she’s struggling not to cry. “Will you - can you just...hold me?” she asks, sounding small and scared. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, Chloe.” he says, low and sure. He tightens his grip and holds her. 

She shudders and breaks. He can feel hot tears soak into his shirt as sobs wrack her small frame. He murmurs soothing litany of nonsense, more of a low rumble of sound than anything of substance. 

Dan’s getting honestly worried, she’s not usually like this. Chloe is a quiet crier if it goes past glassy eyes at all. This... He’s not sure what this is. She’s... _distraught_. 

It seems to last quite a long time until her weeping subsides into a silent trickle of tears on her cheeks. She starts to pull away and he lets her. 

“I’m sorry.” she says, wiping under her eyes, a little embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have come -” 

“Hey, no.” Dan objects instantly, catching at her hands and tugging her close. “We may not be married anymore, but I’m still here for you. You know that, right?” 

She sniffs and nods, but doesn’t look him in the eye. 

Dan’s always been kinda shit about this part through their marriage, but he likes to think he’s gotten better at it. “Do you... want to talk about it?”

“No.” Chloe rejects instantly, intensely. “No.” she says, more calmly the second time. 

“Alright.” he capitulates without a fight, a little relieved. “You wanna take a seat and I’ll get you something to drink?” 

She nods and moves carefully past him. He gets a glass from the cabinet and fills it with cold water, no ice - how she likes it. Dan doesn’t think alcohol would be very helpful right now and he doesn’t have any coffee. He walks out to his little living room, carefully watching the rim of the glass so he won’t spill it over. 

She’s curled up in the corner of his couch and he passes the water to her. She takes a long draught and maybe he watches her throat as she swallows, but he can’t quite help himself. He’s divorced, not dead.

She finishes it off and he takes it from her and sets it in a nearby table, ignoring her look. It’s his apartment. He can leave glasses out if he wants. 

“Better?” he asks, eyebrows raised as if he knows she was gearing up to change the subject.

“Yeah. Thank you.” she says, hushed. 

“You’re welcome.” he answers in the same tone. 

He doesn't want to pry, but he knows there were times in the past when Chloe _said_ she didn't want to talk about something when she truly did. It was always a guessing game of when to push and when to leave her be. 

“Did you get the answers you were looking for?” Dan asks, watching for signs of pressing too far. 

She huffs out a wet laugh. “In a manner of speaking.” She looks down at her hands, fiddling with her sleeves and shakes her head. “It seems like one answer only raises three more questions.” 

“Well,” Dan says. “I’m sure you can figure it out. After all, you are the best when it comes to getting to the bottom of things, Detective Decker.” 

It prompts a small smile and Dan congratulates himself. 

“Mommy?” Trixie walks out from the hallway. Both of them swivel instantly towards the sound. 

Trixie is peeking out from the hall wearing her Disney princess pajamas and rubbing sleep from one eye. Dan watches with something akin to morbid fascination as Chloe tucks away that gut wrenching sadness behind a normal faced mask. God, sometimes Chloe terrifies him. 

“Come on out here, Monkey.” Dan prompts, knowing his daughter won’t go back to bed until she knows things are okay. Trixie comes around to where they sit. 

“Hey, baby.” Chloe says, reaching out for their daughter and tugging her into her lap. Trixie’s weight seems to settle Chloe, though. Trixie looks up at her mom with concern. 

“I heard you crying, Mommy.” Trixie says. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Chloe says, trying to sound soothing, pushing slightly sweaty hair out of Trixie’s face. 

“You’re not upset...because of me, are you?” Trixie asks, soft and hesitant. 

“No, honey. Of course not.” Chloe assures. “Why would you think that?” 

Trixie just shrugs and Chloe cuddles her closer. Dan watches the scene with a pang in his chest. Most of the time he’s at peace with how things are. Over. Ended. But sometimes he sees something like this and his lungs constrict with longing. 

“I don’t like it when you’re sad.” Trixie whispers. 

Chloe rubs a thumb back and forth along Trixie’s arm. “I don’t like being sad either, but sometimes things happen and I feel better if I cry it out instead of keeping it inside.” 

Trixie nods. “Did Lucifer do something? Daddy said you went to talk with him.” 

Chloe’s whole body tenses up and Dan watches with suddenly hawk-like eyes. “I - ” Chloe swallows, deciding. “We got into a little bit of an argument, yes.”

“And that’s what made you so sad?” Trixie asks. Dan can see Chloe’s eyes go abruptly shiny and that mask gains a crack. 

“That’s enough questioning, Junior Detective.” Dan says, coming forward to scoop Trixie back up in his arms. “It is waaaaay past your bedtime.” 

“But _Daddy_!” Trixie protests. “Mommy just got here. Can’t she stay?” she whines. 

“Your mommy might have things to do tomorrow.” He tells Trixie. “Now, go on. Back in bed.” He gives her a kiss and sets her down. Trixie pouts just a little, but obeys when he gives her a nudge. He and Chloe listen to the footfalls of Trixie scampering back to her room and the creak of bedsprings that signal Trixie wiggling around to get comfortable. 

“Is it alright if I stay?” Chloe asks, plucking at a loose thread on the couch. Dan jolts a little and looks over at Chloe, surprised.

“Uh, yeah. I mean - Yeah, if you want to.” he says, stumbling over his words. 

“It’s just - this is your space and you might not be comfortable if -” she flounders. 

“Chloe.” Dan interrupts gently, touching her arm. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll even let you have the bed.” he grins. “One more night on the couch won’t kill me. Besides, this one is much more comfortable than the old one we had.” he teases and she shoves at him, but she’s smiling. 

He offers a helping hand and pulls her to her feet. “C’mon, I’ll put on some clean sheets and everything.” 

Chloe helps, making the bed with her is weird in the way of something that had once been familiar, but isn’t anymore. Still, the ritual domesticity has zoned Chloe out and she fluffs the pillows automatically. He resolutely does not laugh at her and goes back to the linen closet to get some sheets to make up the couch. 

He doesn’t attempt to share the bed with her and she doesn’t offer.

He fetches her a soft shirt and his last clean pair of sweats to sleep in. She takes them with a soft smile. Dan steps into the bathroom to change into his own pajamas. They’re getting a bit threadbare, and there’s holes near the ends, enough that he’s a little self-conscious about Chloe seeing them. There’s nothing to be done about it now.

The couch is comfortable. It’s deep and long enough to fit a person, one of the first things he went out and bought to fill his new apartment. Making sure it was sleep worthy was a must. It might be the most expensive thing he owns, a splurge that he has yet to regret. Chloe helps him tuck the sheet down along the cushions and fetches him an extra blanket.

“Thanks for letting me stay.” she says again, passing the blanket to him.

“You’re welcome.” Dan replies, taking it from her. He presses a kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.” she echoes and turns the light off for him. Just as he drifts off he thinks he hears the sound of her sniffling from his bedroom, but sleep pulls him down before he can act on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick shout out to everyone who has commented or left kudos, you guys are the best <3 I'm going to try and have the next chapter up for you in a week :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe tries to get herself together, Dan is a Good Dude, Amenadiel pushes his brother too far and Lucifer gets some help from Dr. Linda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like i should apologize for how long this chapter is D:
> 
> Also trigger warning for panic attacks

Dan surfaces into awareness at the smell of bacon and the excited chattering of his daughter. He sits up and blearily looks in the direction of the kitchen. Chloe is there, looking much better than the night before, her hair loose and a slightly messy as she moves around his little kitchen making breakfast. 

She’s still in his T-shirt and the sight pulls at something petty and primal in him. He shoves it down and ignores it. 

She turns towards the stove, fetching the bacon and starting a pan for scrambling eggs. Trixie begs to help, bouncing on her toes excitedly. Dan untangles himself from the blankets and gets to his feet. Chloe is allowing Trixie to crack the egg into a bowl, watching carefully for shell pieces, as he comes around. 

The light from the window slants just right along her hair and she shines, bright and golden, for a brief moment. She catches sight of him and straightens, offering a small smile, soft. Dan swallows dryly. 

“Morning.” she says, quiet. 

“Morning.” he replies, his voice gravelly with sleep. She even made coffee, he realizes when she hands him a steaming mug. Why on earth was he ever stupid enough to screw things up with her? _God_ , he was an idiot. He takes a sip and lets the caffeine start to wake his brain up. 

“Daddy! Look!” Trixie pipes up, causing his attention to redirect to her. He shakes off old attraction and focuses on his kid, watching as she carefully cracks the egg as instructed, tongue peeking out in concentration. It plops into the bowl and Trixie grins up at him, proud. 

“Good job, Monkey!” he praises. “Are you gonna fry them up?” 

“Ha. Very funny.” Chloe cuts in before Trixie can jump on the opportunity. “But I will be doing the scrambling, thank you very much.” She gives Dan a look and he grins back, unrepentant. 

Trixie goes to sit at the little table next to the kitchen that makes up his dining room and waits impatiently for food. With her daughter no longer watching, Chloe slumps slightly, looking exhausted. 

“Did you sleep okay?” Dan asks. 

She glances over at him briefly. “Your mattress is very comfortable.” she replies, a non answer. Chloe is suddenly focused on the pan with abnormal intensity. 

Dan moves into Chloe’s side. “Hey, you alright?” he asks softly. 

She goes tense and nods jerkily. He places a hand against her back. 

“It’s okay if you’re not.” he offers, trying to help. 

“It’s fine, Dan.” she says, voice suddenly hard. His hand falls away. Her eyes flick up to meet his, apologetic. 

He sighs and lets it drop. “You didn’t have to make breakfast.” he tells her. 

“I know.” she replies, hair falling forward to curtain her off from him. “If you take a shower now, it will be ready by the time you get out.” 

“Right.” he says, moving away from her. “Good idea.” He’s still going to take his coffee with him though. He grabs his clothes and heads to the shower, idly drinking from the mug as he goes. He sets it down on the bathroom counter and turns on the water, giving it time to warm up. 

He goes through his morning routine quickly - showering, shaving, getting dressed - until his mug is empty and the smell of eggs and bacon and _pancakes_ makes his stomach rumble. He slips his badge on to his belt and rejoins Chloe and Trixie in the kitchen. 

Chloe has a plate set aside for him, which he tucks into with abandon, relishing the taste of something other than cold cereal. Chloe looks over the rim of her own mug at him with amused eyes. 

Trixie is very happily demolishing a pancake with banana eyes and a whipped cream smile beside him. He reaches over for a strip of bacon and crunches down on it with a groan. _So good_. He never manages to make bacon this good. 

“Slow down you guys.” Chloe laughs. “It’s not going anywhere.” 

She receives two identical looks of skeptical disbelief. Dan spatulas a second helping of eggs onto his plate while Chloe calmly starts in on her own pancake. 

“What are your plans for today?” Dan asks, using the edge of his fork to cut his eggs. “You’re off work, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, for the next few days.” Chloe nods. “I thought I might take Trixie to the park, I dunno. Get outside, just get away from everything.” She makes a swirly gesture with her silverware. 

Dan smiles. “That sounds nice. The weather is supposed to be good today.”

“I wanna go!” Trixie agrees around a mouthful of pancake. 

“Then we will.” Chloe smiles. 

The next few minutes are quiet. He’s busy stuffing his face, and Trixie has moved on to bacon, happily chewing. Chloe has finished already, and when he glances up, she is staring out the window, fingers curled loosely around her mug. Her face weighted with sadness. 

It resolves his determination to do something about it. He checks his watch. If he leaves now he will have time to stop by Lux. He stands, takes his plate to the sink and gathers up his things. He pauses to press a kiss to the top of Trixie’s head. 

“Bye baby, have fun with your Mom.” 

Trixie grins up at him. “I will! Bye, Daddy.”

“Leaving already?” Chloe asks, surprised. 

“Um, yeah.” he says as casually as he can. 

Her brow furrows. “I thought you had the afternoon shift.” 

“No, yeah. I do, but Diaz wanted to go over the case notes before we got started and texted me to be there early.” 

“Oh.” Chloe blinks. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I gotta run.” Dan gives her an apologetic look. 

“No, no. It’s fine.” she says, shaking her head. 

“Lock the place up for me?” he asks, doing his best to look innocent. 

“Of course.” She flashes him a quick smile. He closes the door behind him and blows out a breath. God, he hates lying to her. 

Then he pushes off the door and starts down the hall. He’s got a few choice words for their resident Devil. 

**********

Lucifer wakes up with a groan. For a brief moment it feels exactly like the night after Maze cut his wings off and he bolts into lucidity, twisting to look at his back. His wings are still present, but just that amount of movement has him fisting at his sheets in pain, agony bolting down his back.

He breathes through it and channels as much energy into healing it as he can. In a few moments it’s reduced to the dull throb of sore muscles.

“Master?” Aamon pops his head up, looking over the edge of the bed. The Hellhound fidgets, fingers kneading idly at the comforter while he does his best to look pitiful. 

Lucifer sighs, vanishes his wings and pats the bed. Aamon jumps up eagerly and wiggles close, shifting into his true skin, his great, crocodile-like tail trailing off the edge of the bed. Lucifer runs careful fingers along the bridge of Aamon’s muzzle, scritching behind large, pointed ears. Aamon’s great tongue lolls out in happiness, red eyes closing as he leans into Lucifer’s touch.

He sits there a moment, sheets tangled around his waist, reflecting on last night’s events. “You know, I think I’ve rather cocked everything up this time.” Lucifer admits, his throat scratchy like sandpaper. 

Lucifer’s eyes feel hot and prickly and there’s this terrible sensation in his chest. He presses a hand to his sternum and tries to breathe through it, but he can’t seem to catch his breath, his inhalations sound loud in his ears. It feels alarmingly like dying. 

What if she never speaks to him again? Wants nothing more to do with him? What will he do then? 

All he can see is Chloe’s furious face, twisted up in disgust at him. It’s no more than he deserves, after what he’s done. 

Aamon lays his great wolfy head in Lucifer’s lap and looks up at him, whining in concern, pushing at him with his nose. The sudden pressure anchors him and Lucifer latches on, sinking hands into coarse fur. Lucifer exhales slowly and tries to take as much comfort from the Hellhound as he can. 

Minutes pass, but Aamon waits patiently for Lucifer to calm. He still feels hollowed out, feels like he’s somehow back in Hell, but the panic is no longer skittering through his veins. 

Lucifer clears his throat. “Did you sleep alright on the floor? We’ll have to get you a proper bed sometime today.” he says to his Hellhound, trying to distract himself. Aamon’s mouth opens in a dog grin, showing off his sharp teeth. 

Aamon’s ears suddenly swivel and he turns to look out into the bar area with interest. Lucifer catches the faint sound of the elevator.

“Lucifer?” a voice calls. Maze. “You here?”

Aamon wiggles with excitement. Lucifer holds a palm out. “Stay.” he commands quietly. Aamon whines a little, but remains put. Lucifer slides out of bed and into a robe, striding out to meet his demon. She takes in his ragged appearance with disdain.

“Dan picked up Trixie, Chloe never came home last night, and everyone is ignoring my calls.” she says. “What happened?”

“Yes, well. It seems our little secret is out of the bag.” Lucifer says, just a little too caustically for Maze’s tastes, apparently, because she blocks his advance toward the bar.

“I thought you were going to tell me ahead of time. We made a deal, remember?”

Lucifer looms over her in a show of intimidation, disliking her tone. “I don’t forget my deals, Mazikeen.” He holds his stance for a moment and then he shifts back. “Sadly, things were taken out of my hands.” He turns towards his bedroom and lets out a sharp whistle.

Maze is looking at him like he’s being more deranged than usual until she sees Aamon bound out of his bedroom and careen toward her, claws clicking against the floor. He leaps and Maze slides back a few steps with the impact, arms encircling his bulk. 

“Aamon?” she says, aghast. Then she’s being greeted with licks and nuzzles. Once she’s sufficiently been said hello to, Aamon settles at her feet. She crouches down, running hands over his fur coat, avoiding the heavy swipe of his scaled tail. She looks up at Lucifer.

“How?” she asks, disbelief and affection, both. 

“Things are slipping through the Gates, Maze.” he says, grave.

“Shit.” she says eloquently. “I think I need a drink.” Maze stands up. 

Lucifer gestures expansively at the bar. She pours herself a drink, takes a look at him and pours him one, too.

He downs it in one gulp, but Maze takes her time.

“How bad is it?” she asks.

“If Aamon is to be believed, and I think he should be, demons are getting loose. Hopefully, not many.” Lucifer says. 

Maze taps a sharp nail against her glass. Looking at her, one would think her the perfect example of unworried, but Lucifer knows better. “Once Aamon made contact, others will follow.” she says. “We must prepare.” 

“Why bother?” he asks caustically. He turns away but he can feel Maze’s gaze follow him.

“There’s something else.” she realizes. “C’mon. Spill.”

“Aamon didn’t come to me first, Maze.” he says. Aamon sinks closer to the ground at Lucifer’s tone. “He went to Chloe.”

“And that’s how she found out?” Maze asks, tongue running against her teeth.

Lucifer waves a hand, feeling callous. “More or less.”

“She didn’t take it well, then?”

Lucifer barks a laugh. “She came over here, wanting answers.” The line of his mouth goes bitter. “We argued.”

“ _Lucifer_.” Maze says, a reprimand. He’s so numb that he hardly feels the sting. 

He wants to say that Chloe will come around, that he will apologize and things will be fine, but - well, that would be lying, wouldn’t it?

“What’s done is done.” he says instead. His phone buzzes and he looks at the screen blankly. It’s only a reminder that his new piano is being delivered today within the next few hours. He puts the phone back into sleep. It’s not like he planned leaving the penthouse. 

“Now, I’m going to have me a nice, long shower and a change of clothes. Whether you stay is your own business.” he tells her. 

Having adequately warned Maze, he takes an obscene amount of time under the spray. He’s got it as hot as he can stand, letting it hiss and spatter against his taxed muscles. 

He dresses rotely, no joy in the task at all. He hardy glances at himself in the mirror, using his fingers to push his wet hair back. Maze is still there when he reappears. She’s sitting on a chair and is speaking quietly to Aamon, who has shifted into human shape, his face cradled in Maze’s hands. 

Lucifer ignores them for refilling his glass. He can’t get too buzzed, at least, not yet. If it wasn’t for the deliverers arriving, he would be on his way to getting thoroughly soused. 

“We really should talk about what’s happening, Lucifer.” Maze says as he passes by. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Lucifer retorts. “I’ll pop back down to Hell, tighten up the Gates and make sure no one else can get through.” 

“What about the ones already here?” she asks sharply. 

“You said it yourself, Maze. Once Aamon approached and broke the ice, so to speak, other demons will no doubt be brave enough to show their faces. And if not? What do I care? I came to enjoy LA, why shouldn’t they?” 

“Uh. Because they’re _dangerous_?” Maze replies. 

“So are you. So am I.” Lucifer answers, pouring another drink. “Even Amenadiel is, given the right encouragement.” 

“And what about Chloe?” Maze prods. 

“What _about_ Chloe?” he returns, words gone abruptly sharp and thin, like a well used blade. It's the first bit of emotion he’s felt other than a dull agony. 

“If the demons seek to harm her?” Maze questions, jaw jutted forward. 

His eyes blaze furious and red, his ire catching like dry kindling. “Then they have forfeited their lives.” he hisses. “And they will _wish_ for the warm recesses of Hell by the time I am through with them.”

Maze nods, his anger having reassured her. He grits his teeth and turns away, feeling played. His wrath lashes around inside of him at the thought of someone harming Chloe. It burns bright and sharp before fading out as suddenly as it had come, leaving him feeling hollow and exhausted. 

Aamon rocks his weight forward. “Someone is coming.” He sniffs, nose in the air. He sits abruptly back on his haunches, visibly bristling, pupils blown wide. “It’s an angel.” 

Lucifer hardly has it in him to be bothered. “Worry not, Aamon. It’s probably my brother Amenadiel.” Lucifer ponders a moment. “While I’m reasonably certain he would not strike out at you, it might be best for you to stay out of sight.” 

Aamon nods and slinks over to Lucifer’s bedroom, gathering up his blankets and relocating to the closet. 

The elevator doors part once more, Amenadiel striding through with all the purpose of God’s Firstborn. He seems a little surprised that both Lucifer and Maze are there, but visibly decides to take it in stride. 

“Brother!” Lucifer greets with forced cheer. “What can I do for you?” His brother's presence is almost enough to make him consider locking his doors. 

“I’m here to talk.” Amenadiel says, though his tone says otherwise.

“About what?” Lucifer asks, voice dry as he throws back the rest of his drink.

Amenadiel’s eyes narrow. “Maybe we should talk about why you felt the need to humiliate me in front of your coworkers?”

Lucifer grins, feeling a flicker of fondness in remembrance, sighing. “Ah, yes. That _was_ a lovely bit of showmanship, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t about you, really.” Lucifer says, a tad disparaging. “You were simply a convenient target.”

“Feeling a little insecure?” Amenadiel asks, glib - the closest he gets to antagonistic.

Lucifer’s smile goes a bit wooden, but he simply tilts his head in a parody of flirtation. “What’s there to be insecure about?” he says as he pours himself another glass.

Maze snorts from her seat, but doesn’t comment.

“Regardless, there are other things to discuss. Linda’s healing was divine intervention. Why you refuse to see our Father’s hand in these matters, I simply can’t understand.”

“Maybe I don’t feel like attributing every good thing to dear, old Dad.” Lucifer sneers. 

“Our Father is deserving of the credit.” Amenadiel replies, a lesson so elementary that it leaves his mouth second nature. 

Lucifer remembers what that was like, so long ago. When he fulfilled his purpose without thought, happy and stupid. He’d offered praise, sung glorious songs, rendered to Him the proper due and had rejoiced in it. His Father was the origin of every good thing, every good gift. 

Until He wasn’t. 

“Is He?” Lucifer asks. A voiced doubt, sacrilege. _Is it really so?_

“It is not for us to question him.” Amenadiel says, like he’s speaking to a child.

“Why not? It’s not like he comes down and ever bothers to explain himself.” Lucifer retorts, starting to get irritated. 

“It’s not necessary He do so. Besides, I think I would know our Father’s will.” Amenadiel remarks with that infuriating certainty. It ignites something dark and molten in Lucifer’s chest. 

“Why? Because you’ve been so good at upholding it as of late?” Lucifer says scathingly. 

Amenadiel jaw muscle flutters, but he takes a deep breath to remain calm. “I have made mistakes, brother. I know that. But, unlike you, I have sought to rectify them.”

“Of course.” Lucifer huffs a humorless laugh. “You are sure of your position in our Father’s eyes, then?”

“I am the favorite son.” Amenadiel states, head tilted arrogantly.

“Are you?” Lucifer asks, taking a sip of scotch. He then looks up to lock eyes with his foolish brother. 

“Lucifer, don’t.” Maze warns, but he pays her no heed. 

“Come now, Maze. My brother has made quite the assertion.” Lucifer inclines his head almost serpent like. 

It’s not a fire that’s caught aflame inside him, no. It’s something else, something worse. It eats inward, devolving. There’s a black hole sitting where Lucifer’s heart used to be, consuming, pulling at his ribs until it feels like they might crack. He sets his glass down, overly careful, and turns to face Amenadiel. 

“Let’s look at it objectively, yes?” An insincere smirk stretches at Lucifer’s mouth. “I disobey, rebel against him in the most fundamental way possible, and how did you put it? Ah, right - he gives me a _kingdom_.”

“Some kingdom.” Amenadiel replies, voice acerbic.

Lucifer only hums, not letting the little barb stick to him. “But _you_ disobey and what does He do? He lets you Fall, stripped of your power and your wings. Is that about right?”

“What are you getting at, Luci?” Amenadiel questions, voice hard. 

Lucifer is so _sick_ of being spoken to in that tone of voice and he presses on, ruthless. “I cut off and burn my very connection to heaven, to Him, forsaking anything he gave me and do you know what our Father does?” He pauses, letting the question hang in the air just long enough for the expression on Amenadiel’s face to morph into skepticism. “He rewards me with them again.” 

Lucifer brings out his wings, large and majestic and perfect. They lift into a threat display, every feather bristling with danger. 

Amenadiel stares in shock, eyes wide and jaw going slack. Lucifer grins, cruel and merciless.

“Surprised, dear brother? I can assure you that I was when I awoke with them on my back.” 

“But...but the piece.” Amenadiel protests weakly, thoroughly shaken. 

Lucifer stalks forward, wings folding elegantly against his back. “Ah, yes. The piece.” he muses. Amenadiel clenches his jaw and stands his ground as Lucifer invades his space. “The piece he entrusted to his most _favorite son_.” 

Lucifer for a moment almost feels pity, but it won’t stop him. There’s this yawning, howling darkness inside him driving him on, to strike out and hurt. And there is nothing, _nothing_ , else left in him. 

“And then He wrapped it around your neck,” Lucifer trails his fingers where the necklace once hung against his brother’s sternum, “And sent you to _me_.” he finishes, cold.

“Lucifer!” Maze objects as devastation rolls across Amenadiel’s face. 

Lucifer doesn’t back down, though, whirling on Maze, eyes blazing blood red. “I’m the devil, Maze. Maybe it’s high time people remember that.”

Amenadiel gives a roar of anger and tackles his brother, knocking Lucifer breathless. They go down in a heap of thrashing wings and limbs. Neither one sees Maze, clearly sick of this ridiculousness, leaving to go find the one person qualified to fix this. 

Amenadiel throws a wild fist that catches under Lucifer’s jaw unexpectedly, filling his mouth with blood from a bitten tongue, a second blow lands on his brow, the skin splitting. Lucifer swings his wings behind him to counterbalance his lunge, shoving his brother to the ground so he can rear a punch back. 

Amenadiel manages to dodge the first attempt and Lucifer’s knuckles crash into the floor. Lucifer brings his fist up again, relentless. The next three land with precision and Lucifer grins at the dull crunch of Amenadiel’s nose breaking. 

Amenadiel lands a solid kick to Lucifer’s stomach, launching him backwards and hauls himself to his feet. Lucifer stumbles back, the weight of his wings pulling him down. They extend forward, sweeping, to regain his balance, slicing outwards. 

Lucifer freezes, stricken. 

Amenadiel stares down at himself in shock, three great red stripes painted across his front. He slowly brings a hand up to touch and it comes away wet. 

Blood drips from Lucifer’s feathers with a soft pitter patter. Amenadiel staggers forward, legs just beginning to buckle. Lucifer darts forward to catch him, wings disappearing. 

“You _idiot_.” Lucifer snarls, unsure if he’s talking to his brother or himself, pressing his palms against the lacerations. He draws upon his power and pushes it into his brother, demanding the wounds to heal. He doesn’t let up until he feels the cuts seal shut. 

“How could our Father ever think _you_ worthy of such gifts.” Amenadiel says quietly, his words sharper than any flight feather. Lucifer drops him, letting him fall to the floor, but underneath Amenadiel’s flesh is healed and whole. 

“Get out.” Lucifer says, voice devoid of any emotion in the way that makes him truly dangerous. He doesn’t turn to see if his brother complies, but hears the elevator doors close. 

Lucifer takes in a slow breath, feeling it rattle around that horrible absence of sensation resting beneath his ribs. There’s not even a sense of satisfaction, that cloying numbness stealing away anything he might have bothered to feel except apathy and emptiness. 

He walks back to his bar and takes a bottle of liquor strong enough to strip paint and twists off the top. Aamon cautiously creeps out from his room and moves to sit at Lucifer’s feet, back pressed against his shins. Lucifer lets a hand fall to tangle in the man’s hair, but can’t bring himself to do any more.

Lucifer is not sure how much time passes, maybe an hour or two, but he stops himself after finishing the bottle. It’s effect is only the faintest softening of edges of the hole in his chest and it’s not helpful enough to bother imbibing any more. He’s nearly sober by the time his phone beeps. Lucifer checks it disinterestedly and brightens only marginally when he sees who it is. Ah, lovely. His piano delivery is here. 

Lucifer hits the call button and grins, false and tight on his face. “Ah, Derek. Lovely to speak to you. Yes, the west side of the building. Wonderful. I’ll be right down.”

Lucifer takes the elevator down to the main floor and strides over to the larger, industrial sized doors at Lux’s back entrance. There’s a moving van parked in the side alley and the back is already open and the piano laden dolly is outside. 

Derek and two other men are there in moving uniforms. All of them young and fit. Lucifer leers at them more out of habit than on any intentions to pursue. 

“Rough night?” one of them asks, gesturing to his split brow. 

“Something like that.” Lucifer replies. 

He shakes Derek’s hand, allows the man to linger in his space a moment before assisting them in rolling the piano laden skid inside the building. 

“I wish every job was this easy.” One of them jokes as they push the piano inside. 

Lucifer smirks, but doesn’t indulge in any harmless flirting. His doorways are wide enough to allow the piano dolly to be rolled through with ease, though he makes sure the wheels don’t leave behind any marks on Lux’s floors.

“This is nothing. He’s got a second Steinway on the top floor.” Derek tells them. “If it wasn’t for the freight elevator, I would have said getting it up there was impossible.” 

Lucifer watches as they begin unwrapping it, carefully setting aside the legs until the main body is revealed. 

“Beautiful.” Lucifer remarks and Derek grins like he’s the one who put the instrument together. 

“Just wait until you hear it.” he says. 

Lucifer helps speed up the process by lifting the body of the piano with Derek tokenly propping up the other side, the young men briefly boggling before darting underneath to screw in the legs. Soon every piece is in place and his club is once more home to a Steinway. 

Lucifer smooths his hands over the finish before going down each key and listening with a careful ear. Every note is perfectly in tune. Yet, he can’t seem to find the same amount of joy in it. 

Still, his mood is no fault of Derek’s, nor the movers, and he tips them handsomely on the way out. They exit out of Lux’s main doors in the sort of blissful daze he tends to inspire. 

He sits down at the piano bench and presses idly at the keys, the first few notes of something melancholy before halting. 

That’s when Dan finds him. 

*********

Dan wasn’t entirely sure if Lucifer would even be at Lux, but it must be the Devil’s own luck that he spots him the moment he walks in. 

Upon catching sight of him, Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Am I to entertain every douche in LA this morning?” he asks derogatorily. 

It’s not even near enough to slow Dan, who proceeds to stride right up to Lucifer and the piano he sits on. There's blood flecked on Lucifer's white sleeves and his eye is bruised and yellow. Dan doesn't have it in him right now to feel bad, only a mean satisfaction that _someone_ had decked Lucifer's smarmy face. “What the hell did you do?” Dan demands, having worked himself up into a steady righteous fury. 

“I’m really not in the mood, Daniel.” Lucifer replies, ignoring his presence. 

“Yeah? Well, I don’t give a fuck.”

The profanity has Lucifer startling upright, eyes wide. Good. Now he has his attention. 

“When my wife demands that I pick up Trixie and comes over to my place later crying her eyes out, you bet I’m going to make it my business.” Dan says, one hand on his hip, the other pointing at Lucifer’s chest. 

“Ex-wife.” Lucifer corrects, eyeing the offending finger disdainfully. 

“God!” Dan says with frustration, throwing his hands up in the air. Lucifer’s jaw ticks at the mention of his father. “I really wanted her to be right about you, you know. She deserves someone like the person she thought you were.”

Lucifer stands suddenly and it feels like the room is somehow darker, shadows elongating and deepening. Dan stumbles a step back, genuinely intimidated. He forgets sometimes how scary Lucifer can be. Then all that terrible energy seems to dissipate and Lucifer sags, listing against his piano. 

“She was crying?” he asks hollowly. 

“Yeah, man.” Dan says a little hopelessly. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but you gotta fix it. I’ve never seen her like this.” 

“I think that’s what I’m here to help with.” Linda says, stepping inside the club. Both men turn to look at the sound of her voice.

“Linda.” Lucifer says, with muted surprise. “What are you...” he trails off.

“Maze told me what happened. Or at least, some of it. I think we should talk.” she asserts.

“Right. Yes, I suppose we should.” Lucifer replies slowly, watching her approach, her presence commanding.

Linda touches Dan’s arm. “I’ll take it from here, Daniel. Thank you.” she says kindly.

“Right, of course.” Dan shifts, glances between the two of them, and realizes there’s nothing more he can do. For all that he would like to _ream_ Lucifer, it’s probably better off that he doesn’t. The guy looks like he’s been put through the ringer. With one final glance at Lucifer, looking more and more defeated now that Dan’s anger has passed, he steps back. 

He does have a case waiting for him at work and he would only feel bad later for kicking someone when they’re down, even if that someone is Lucifer. 

“Dr. Martin.” Dan farewells with a nod and turns and exits the club. He catches the faint few words of Linda starting what sounds like an emergency session and then he’s too far away to hear anything else. 

He feels a little foolish for driving all the way over for nearly nothing, but he’s glad to know someone qualified is trying to help. He just hopes that it’s enough. 

**********

Linda takes a hard look at Lucifer. He’s scruffier than normal. Dressed but not neatly, his collar askew, shirt untucked. The fight with Amenadiel has left its marks as well, bruises and blood. Lucifer smells like alcohol, although that’s not exactly unusual. He doesn’t seem inebriated, his motor skills are unhampered. 

“Shall we take a seat?” Linda suggests, gesturing to one of the circle booths just behind him. Her question jolts Lucifer into action.

“Yes, of course.” he says, standing and following her over. They sit across from one another and Linda arranges her things, a note pad, pen, and some more recent file notes on the small drinks table in front of her. 

“Okay,” she begins, settling into her role. “Maze told me that you and Detective Decker had a disagreement.”

He exhales a huff of air through his nose. “Yes.” he answers. 

It’s good that he’s not minimizing, but his confirmation is ultimately unhelpful. “Walk me through what happened.” she prompts.

Lucifer presses his lips into a thin line, but does as she’s asked. “A Hellhound showed up at the station. Aamon.” Lucifer gives Linda a ghost of a smile. “He’s upstairs, I think you’d like him.”

“Maybe I can meet him after we’re done.” Linda suggests, pushing down a flutter of nervousness.

“If you feel up to it.” Lucifer graciously gives her an out, and then continues. “Aamon approached the Detective, a course of action which he believed to be proper. He unintentionally frightened her, and she called me. I flew over and realized Aamon posed no danger to the Detective, but in the course of the conversation, he revealed himself in front of her.”

“Ah.” Linda says, makes a note down in her book.

Lucifer hesitates. “I took Aamon and left.”

“You left?” She looks up at him, surprised.

“Yes.” he replies, short.

“I see.” Linda says quietly. “And it was after that Chloe arrived?”

He nods. “She came to Lux, already upset.” he explains. “Things got heated. I was angry.” he explains. 

Linda frowns. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. I thought you were going to tell Chloe the truth anyway?” 

“I was.” he says.

“Then why were you so upset?” she asks. 

Lucifer just looks at her helplessly. 

Linda exhales. Right. Unfamiliar with emotions. She still forgets sometimes just who she’s dealing with. “Was it perhaps because you didn’t get to tell her on your own terms? That you had no control over the situation?” 

“Yes, that.” he agrees, but Linda can see he’s gathering his thoughts. “I - my pride was wounded.” he eventually says and then looks away, ashamed. “And I was scared. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“Was there something in particular to elicit such a response?” 

“She called me a liar.” he admits. He’s not displaying typical body language associated with anger, but the line of his back is too straight. “I _never_ lied to her.” he says, his voice trembling with the sheer amount of intensity he’s pushing into it, his brown eyes fierce. 

“Perhaps not.” Linda sidesteps. “But have you been engaging in conversations with Chloe that were open and honest emotionally?”

“No. You know that we haven’t. That was the _whole bloody point_ of showing her the truth.” he spits out.

“And now she knows.” Linda says bluntly. “Maybe not ideally, maybe not the way you wanted, but the fact is that she knows now. What are you going to do about it?”

“Me?” he makes a derisive noise. “Nothing.”

Linda raises her brows in surprise. “Really?”

“What is there to do? Besides, I have other things to worry about.”

Linda nods. “The demons that have escaped Hell.” At Lucifer’s look she adds, “Maze said something about it.”

“Did she?” and there’s an underlying threat there, but it dissipates with a wave of Lucifer’s hand. “Regardless, I’ll have to take a trip down Below and assess the situation.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Absolutely brilliant.” he says sarcastically. She looks at him sternly and he relents. “I hate it. Any second I spend there is awful, but I’ve been there twice now since I abandoned the throne. Third time’s the charm, I suppose.”

There’s something hollow about that last sentence, something resigned, that sets off an alarm in Linda’s head. 

“Do you plan on reclaiming your throne?” she questions, trying to keep her voice neutral even as concern floods through her.

“There’s no need. It’s always been mine. Always will be.” he states bitterly. “That won’t ever change.”

Linda sighs. She’s going to come back to that in a later session, but it’s too big of a subject to get into now. “How did your argument with Chloe end?”

He shifts in his seat and doesn’t make eye contact. “I flew off the balcony.”

“You what.” Linda asks flatly.

“I -” he looks up and mutters something. “I flew off the balcony.”

Linda resists the urge to let her face fall into her hand. Jesus Christ. “And why did you do that?”

“Chloe - she wanted to see my face. My other face.”

“Lucifer.” Linda says, a little reproachfully. 

“I _know_ it was poorly done, I know.” he says, defensive.

“You can’t keep running away from the Detective. You are letting your fear run your life.” she tells him.

He nods, looking wretched.

“You need to have a conversation with her and be _really_ , truly honest. About you, about what’s been going on. It isn’t fair to keep her in the dark, Lucifer.”

“I know that.” he says. “That’s what I wanted to do in the first place.”

Linda breathes out. “I know you did.” she soothes. “But you can’t change what happened. You can only move forward from here.”

“No more going backwards?” he asks, hinting at a smile.

“That’s right.” Linda approves.

He nods, and looks less anxious than he did when she arrived. “I know the Detective has reason to be upset with me. It just got out of hand so quickly. I hope that - that she just needs some time. I wish to apologize, but I don’t want to make things worse.” 

Linda nods. “I think giving Chloe the time to process before attempting to make amends would be best. I know I needed time and space to adjust. It’s a big revelation for us humans.” She smiles. “I’ll reach out and let her know she has support through this.”

“Thank you.” Lucifer says, grateful.

“Now. What happened this morning?” Linda says, with the intention of asking about his fight with Amenadiel. 

“I - for a moment, I couldn't breathe.” Lucifer says instead. 

Linda blinks. That wasn't where she was going with it, but maybe this was something important. “Describe it to me.” 

He takes a hand and pushes the palm of his against his sternum. “It was like there was a weight pressing down and I couldn't draw breath. It was terrifying.” 

Linda furrows her eyebrows. “It sounds like you had a panic attack, Lucifer.” she says, concerned. 

He scoffs. “The Devil doesn't panic.” but it sounds hollow even to him. 

“Maybe ‘ _the Devil_ ’ doesn't.” Linda says, adding air quotes. “But maybe _Lucifer_ does. The first step to regaining control during a panic attack is recognizing that it's happening.” 

His fingers twitch restlessly. “There might have been some minor... Anxiety.” he concedes. 

“If you experience these same symptoms, some find it helpful to tell themselves that they are not in any danger and that it will pass in a few minutes. Try breathing slowly, five seconds in, five seconds out. Give your mind something else to focus on.”

He nods. “Aamon helped.” 

Linda raises her brows, prompting him to continue. 

“He came over and rested his head on me. It was - the weight of it was real. I could concentrate on him.” 

“Just how smart is Aamon?” Linda asks politely. She has an idea about something. She’s not entirely sure what a Hellhound is or does, but if it could be trained to act in some respects a service animal for Lucifer, it could really help with his anxieties. It wouldn’t be anything official, of course, but it could be a great benefit. 

“He is the most intelligent of the Hounds.” Lucifer says, not that she has the context to understand what that means.

 

“Can you bring him down here? I'd like to see something.” 

“Yes, of course. I can just call him.” and Lucifer lifts his fingers to his mouth and lets out an ear piercing whistle that has Linda pressing her hands to her head. “Sorry.” he says sheepishly. 

A moment or two and a man bounces out of the elevator, heading towards them. Linda looks for a dog, but doesn't see anything. 

The man kneels down at Lucifer's side. “You called me?” he asks. Lucifer reaches out and ruffles his hair, eyes fond. 

Oh, no. Linda is getting a creeping suspicion and she's not sure she likes it. 

“Dr. Linda wished to meet you. You will afford her the same amount of respect as you would Mazikeen.” 

“Yes, Master.” Aamon answers easily. He turns to Linda and grins. “I’m Aamon.” he greets. He inches a little closer, but Lucifer places a restraining hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry. I thought you said Aamon was a Hellhound.” Linda says slowly. 

“I am!” the man chirps happily. 

“You can show her, but not around other humans. Only Linda alone. Otherwise you must wear this skin if there are people about.” Lucifer says. 

Aamon nods and shifts into his other form, black and shaggy. His ears are upright and his many eyes are bright with excitement. Linda stares for a moment, shocked. 

“Ah. I see.” she says. It’s vastly different from Lucifer’s other face, but still jarring. This time she knows she has no reason to be frightened beyond the natural, instinctive fear. She allows herself a moment to feel it before letting it pass.

She slowly reaches out and Aamon pushes his head into her hand. The fur looks bristly and coarse, but it's rather soft to the touch. He closes his eyes and then it's like any other large dog begging for pets. 

“I’m petting a Hellhound.” Linda tries the sentence out loud to see if it sounds less crazy. And no. No, it does not. Aamon shifts closer till his head is resting on her leg and maybe the eyes don't bother her so much when they look up at her like that, all sweet adoration and loyalty. 

“You are. He's going to be bugging you to pet him from now on, you know.” Lucifer says, a bit chiding. “You’ll never be rid of him.” Aamon folds his ears back and looks as pitiful as a Hellhound can. 

“He doesn't mean it.” Linda assures Aamon, whose ears pop up and his whole expression turns hopeful, thick tail swishing noisily. 

“Can he talk like this?” Linda looks up and asks. 

“No. He doesn't have the right vocal cords for it.” Lucifer explains.

What comes out of Aamon's mouth is a garbled howl noise. Lucifer huffs a laugh. Aamon shifts into his human shape. 

“Speech is easier like this, hands too.” he says.

Linda tries to mentally adjust to having Aamon’s head still resting against her leg. She wonders if all of Hell’s occupants have such beautiful outside appearances or if it’s just true of the small sample she’s met. She focuses on the Hound.

“This morning, when Lucifer was having difficulty breathing,” she says to Aamon, “He said you helped anchor him in the present. Do you remember?”

Aamon's face furrows. “He was panting loud and fast even though he hadn't been running. And he smelled of fear. Bad. Sour.” He sits back and looks up at Linda, clear blue eyes set in a handsome face. “There was no danger. I would have found it. Would have stopped it.” Aamon bears his teeth, round and human but still conveys his intent. 

Having caught a brief sight of his jaws in Hellhound form, Linda believes it. 

“Wanted to reassure. Comfort.” Aamon says. “The Master was distressed.” 

“You did very well, Aamon.” Lucifer praises and Aamon soaks it in. 

“If Lucifer experiences those same things,” Linda tells Aamon, voice serious. “I want you to do what you did this morning. Press up against him, distract him. Can you do that?” 

Aamon takes the command solemnly and nods. 

“If Lucifer is having trouble walking or standing, help him to sit or lie down. Do you understand?” 

Aamon nods. Linda looks up at Lucifer. “Can he work a cell phone?” 

Lucifer appears stumped by the question. “I don't know. Possibly. He could be trained to.” 

“See if he can be. If you experience a panic attack that goes on, having Aamon capable of calling me or a hospital could be a real help.” 

“Yes, I see what you mean.” Lucifer looks thoughtful. “I'll have to try it.” he looks to Aamon. “Would you like that? To learn a new trick or two?”

Aamon seems almost too delighted for words. “Yes!” he finally gets out. “Yes, yes, yes! I want to learn something new. Please?” 

Lucifer chuckles. “Very well. That settles it. Now come here, Linda isn't done yet.” 

Aamon obeys, sitting next to Lucifer's chair and remaining there, unobtrusive. 

“You and Amenadiel.” Linda starts, taking a breath. 

“I’m not apologizing.” Lucifer says suddenly, almost sharp. 

Linda blinks, startled at the sudden capriciousness. 

“Why do you say that?”

“He was asking for it.” Lucifer says, his voice is aggravated, a contrast to the hand lazily messing with Aamon’s hair. “His constant proselytizing, going on and on about Dad. He needed to know that our Father cares little about us.” 

Linda flattens her mouth, but doesn't refute his statement. 

“And it was up to you?” she asks. 

“Yes.” he states with conviction. Then Lucifer hesitates. “But it was cruelly done.” he acknowledges. “We both were.” 

“And things got physical?” Linda clarifies.

“Amenadiel threw the first punch.” Lucifer says, like that is something that matters. “We fought briefly. I caught him accidentally on a wing.” 

“Is he alright?” Linda asks, remembering that Lucifer had warned her how sharp the outside flight feathers were. She had noticed the fine specks of blood dotting Lucifer's shirt. 

“He left without a scratch on him.” Lucifer replies.

A non answer, but a reassuring one. “Did the situation with Chloe affect the way you handled things with Amenadiel?”

“Of course it did.” Lucifer replies. “How could it not? Amenadiel always was the king of piss poor timing.” he says bitterly. 

Linda ponders on where to go from here, their time nearly up. “I want you to think on how you could have handled both situations differently.”

“Why? It can't be helped now.” 

“You're right, but understanding what went wrong can help prevent the same mistakes being repeated in the future.”

Lucifer snorts. “Fair enough.”

“I would also like you to ask Chloe if she would be willing to sit down and have a joint session with me. You two need to have some conversations on your own, yes, but I would like to be able to work with you both at some point soon.”

Lucifer nods. “Of course. If I get the chance, I’ll suggest it.”

“Is there anything else you would like to discuss?” she asks him. 

He mulls it over. “No, I’d like some time to think on things, Doctor.”

“Alright. I’ll see you at your regular session, then?”

“Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you, again.” he says as she puts her things in her bag and stands. He gets to his feet as well, stepping around Aamon.

“Happy to help. Call if you need anything.” Linda tells Lucifer warmly. Then she moves forward and hugs him. Even with her heels on she barely reaches his chest. “You’re too tall.” she tells him and she can feel the vibration of his chuckle against her cheek. He’s so warm. And firm. 

And yep, that’s enough. She makes herself take a step back. “I hope everything works out.” she tells him genuinely.

Lucifer smiles, soft and sad. “I as well.” 

“It was nice meeting you, Aamon.” Linda tells the Hellhound, and gives his human head a gentle pat. It's a little weird, but ever since Lucifer stepped into her life, it's been a progression of stranger and stranger things. 

Linda leaves Lucifer standing in the middle of the floor of Lux. His eyes are far away, but he seems more resolved about the situation. She’ll send Chloe a text message offering up emotional assistance, but she’s got to get going. 

She had rearranged her schedule to accommodate Maze’s intensely worded request, but if she doesn’t get going she’s going to have to reshuffle her appointments again.

*********** 

Chloe looks back at her daughter through the rearview mirror. Trixie is looking out the window, singing along to the radio, happy as can be. Instead of going to their usual park, Chloe is driving out a little ways, someplace new.

She pulls into a parking spot and shuts off the car. “Now, what are the rules?” Chloe asks, voice firm, before Trixie can dash out to the playground equipment. Trixie used to roll her eyes and repeat the rules in a bored tone of voice. But then Malcolm happened.

“Don’t go where you can’t see me. Don’t talk to strangers. Be careful if there are smaller kids.” she answers, her dark eyes serious.

“What if someone tries to grab you?”

“Kick and scream.” Trixie replies. 

“Don’t forget biting.” Chloe says, and Trixie grins. “Alright, go have fun.” Chloe releases her daughter and Trixie runs out to the jungle gym. It’s mostly empty, but there are a few other moms and their kids. Chloe locks the car and walks over to the bench with the best line of sight and takes a seat. 

Trixie has always been good at making friends quickly and is already speaking to a girl a little younger than her. They race down the double slide together and then run back up to do it again.

Chloe snags a bag of apple slices from the lunch bag and munches. It’s quiet, so she has some time to think, some time to process everything. Lucifer is the Devil, capital D. Does that change anything? Chloe doesn’t know. There’s so much about him that he keeps secret, keeps hidden. How much of what she knows about him is even real? 

She takes a bite of apple with a vicious crunch. 

She’s still angry with him, though it’s fading. Day brought with it the cold light of rationalization. She still feels betrayed, but he had tried _so hard_ to tell her the truth, multiple times. And if what happened to Jimmy way back when is the result of seeing Lucifer’s face, she can see why he’d be reluctant to reveal it - though it seems like there’s more to it than just that. 

She sighs. There’s still so many unanswered questions. 

He had absolutely terrified her last night. Not his anger, no, but that heart stopping moment when it looked like he was going to throw himself off the building. And those _wings_ , breathtaking and menacing all at once.

“You can’t avoid me forever, you know.” says a voice and Chloe startles, the apple slices nearly fall from her lap. She catches at them and turns to see Maze. “I’m a bounty hunter, I can track you down.”

“Maze!” Chloe gasps, pressing a hand to her heart, beating wildly in her chest. “You scared me.”

Maze huffs and settles down next to her on the bench, arms folded. “Sorry.” she says, sounding anything but.

“What are you doing here?” Chloe asks.

Maze looks away. “I came to check on you, Decker. Duh.”

“Oh.” Chloe blinks.

“Yeah. I went to Lucifer’s. I guess you know about us now, huh?”

Chloe sobers. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Maze asks, and her voice is hard, but Chloe’s been a cop most of her life and has lived with Maze long enough to see the fear that resides in the defensive posture.

Chloe lets out a careful breath. “I’m a mom, so I have to ask this and I need you to be honest with me.”

“Okay,” Maze says slowly, but Chloe can hear the undercurrent of uncertainty. 

Chloe takes a breath. “Would you ever harm Trixie?”

“Chloe, how could you think -” Maze responds, angry. 

“I just - I need you to say it. Please.” Chloe cuts in, holding her hand up to cut off Maze’s protests. 

Maze answers and her voice is steady. “I would never harm Trixie.” she snarls. “I’d cut my own throat before I’d harm a single hair on her head.”

Chloe nods like that was the reply she expected, but is relieved to hear it all the same. “Thank you.”

“Shall we seal it in blood?” Maze asks, pulling out her curved knife. 

“What? No!” Chloe objects instinctively. Then she hesitates. “Why? Is that different?”

“For humans? Not at all. You can break a blood promise as easily as a spoken one, but for me? It’s different.”

“Because you’re a demon.” Chloe says slowly, more to convince herself than anything. 

“Because I’m a demon.” Maze confirms. “A pact made in blood is binding. A demon might be able to find a loophole or wiggle around it, but it’s difficult.”

“Why?” Chloe asks, unable to help her curiosity. It’s a whole different world they’re revealing to her and Chloe’s inquisitive instincts are too strong to be held back.

Maze shrugs. “It goes against our nature. Just like when Lucifer makes a deal or gives his word. Hard to get out of.” Maze answers. 

“Right.” Chloe says, slotting that information into place.

“So are we gonna do this or what?” Maze asks and pricks her finger dispassionately. “I’d normally slice my palm, but this will work since you won’t heal from it quickly.” 

Chloe hesitates and then holds her hand out. Maze skillfully presses the point against her skin and there’s a miniscule pain and a bright red bead of blood wells up. 

Maze clasps their hands and pushes their cuts together. She meets Chloe’s eyes and does not waver. 

“I, Mazikeen, Firstforged of the Hordes, Archdemon of the Pit, the Right Hand of our Lord, swears to you, Chloe Decker,” Maze says and Chloe feels a fission of power grip their hands, sealing them together. “That I shall never bring harm upon your daughter, Beatrice, either directly or through inactivity for as long as I draw breath.” 

There’s a shock against her fingers and Chloe jerks away automatically. 

“There.” Maze says casually, lifting her own hand up to lick the blood from her finger. 

“I’m not doing that, gross.” Chloe says and wipes her hand off on her jeans. 

“Suit yourself.” Maze replies easily. “Now that that’s taken care of, you wanna tell me what’s going on with you?”

“What did Lucifer tell you?” Chloe asks carefully. 

“That you found out the truth before he had the chance to break it to you. That you argued.” Maze answers.

Chloe blows out a breath. “Yeah, you could say that.” She studies her hands. “A man showed up at the precinct.” Chloe starts. “Lucifer called him Aamon.”

Maze nods. “I saw Aamon at the penthouse.” 

“So you know him, then.” Chloe says, inquisitive. 

“I do.” Maze confirms. “He’s mine. Well, he’s Lucifer’s in that _all_ of us are Lucifer’s, but Aamon and I often hunted together.” 

“Right.” Chloe says, deciding not to touch that with a ten foot pole. “I wasn’t in the best state for rational conversation.” she admits. “I said some things I didn’t mean.”

Maze studies her. “You will have to tell Lucifer that. He forget sometimes that human words don’t always carry the same weight as his own.”

Chloe considers that for a moment, then nods. “Lucifer flew off the balcony.” Chloe says and swallows against the sudden lump in her throat. “I thought he didn’t have his wings.”

“He didn’t.” Maze confirms. “It’s a new pair. He’s not very happy about it, but I won’t - I can’t do that to him again.” Maze forces out. 

“So you really did...?” Chloe trails off, partially in disbelief that they are even having this insane conversation. 

Maze shakes she head yes. “I cut his wings off. I’ve seen a lot of terrible things in Hell, done a lot of terrible things. But that - that was by far the worst.” Maze closes her eyes tight against the memory. “The way he screamed.” 

Chloe can’t help but reach out and lay a comforting hand on Maze’s arm. Maze looks at it in surprise, and honestly, knowing the truth makes so much about Maze and Lucifer make sense. Chloe can’t imagine a demon from Hell being used to affection freely given.

“Maze!” Trixie calls, having finally noticed Maze was there. “Watch me!” 

The other families have left so it’s just Trixie out there, entertaining herself. Both Maze and Chloe turn their attention as Trixie jumps from one slide to the other in blatant disregard to the equipment’s intended use. Chloe feels a short jolt of fear, but Trixie lands safely on the other side. 

“Well done, little Decker!” Maze calls, a sort of fierce pride on the demon’s face. Trixie beams in response and returns to playing. 

They fall into a companionable silence for a moment, watching Trixie play.

“So do you have...?” Chloe asks, almost despite herself. She makes a vague gesture around her face.

A flicker of fear skirts across Maze’s expression before it goes resolute. “I do. Would you like to see it?”

Chloe swallows. “If you want to show me.”

Maze takes a moment and then decides, half of her face melting away. Maze’s left side is sinewy and charred, a milky white eye sunk down into a deep socket. Chloe keeps her expression blank before intentionally pulling into a look of nonchalance. 

“I thought there would be horns.” Chloe says.

Maze laughs wetly, and her face fades back to normal. “Nah, not really my thing. Some demons are into it though.”

“Mommy!” Trixie shouts as she runs over to them, sweaty and flushed. “Maze showed you her halloween mask! Isn’t it cool?”

“Halloween mask?” Chloe asks, but the question is directed towards Maze, eyebrow raised. She takes in Trixie’s excitement and Maze’s atypical chagrin. “It _is_ pretty cool, Monkey.” Chloe says. 

Maze smiles, relieved. Then she stands and dusts herself off. “I’ve got to get going, but I’m glad you’re okay, Chloe. Wouldn’t want a brain melted roommate.”

Chloe snorts.

“Will I see you at home?” Maze asks, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. “Or should I make myself scarce?” 

“No.” Chloe protests. “It’s your place, too.” 

“I don’t want you to be ... uncomfortable.” Maze’s words come out stilted, but Chloe understands the sentiment behind it. 

“I’m not.” Chloe decides. And to her surprise...she isn’t. “I’ll be home for dinner.” 

“Good.” Maze says. “Because you’re cooking.” It’s like nothing has changed. Like she hadn’t just seen the demon underneath Maze’s skin. 

“Mac and cheese?” Chloe suggests.

“Yes!” Trixie crows. 

“Sounds good to me.” Maze runs a quick hand down Trixie’s head, gives Chloe a small smile. “See you later.” With a final look, she heads off.

“Bye, Maze!” Trixie calls.

“Go play, baby. Then we’ll go get lunch, okay?”

“Okay! Can we get pizza?”

“We’ll see.” Chloe responds. She gives her a nudge and Trixie scampers off, heading to the swings.

Chloe’s phone buzzes in her pocket. It’s a short series of messages. 

_Lucifer told me what happened._

_I know what you’re going through, both as a therapist and as someone who went through the experience myself._

_If you need someone to talk to, my door is always open. x Linda_

Chloe reads it and then reads it again. She bites her lip and types out a response. 

_Thank you. I might take you up on that._

She still needs some time, time to think and sort out how she feels. But it’s nice knowing she has people in her corner. Maybe...maybe this will be easier than she thought. Maybe things will turn out okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D a hopeful chapter ending for once! is everyone excited for season 3? (and for my fic to become noncanon lmao)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe deals with having a demon for a roommate, gets some advice from Linda and makes a decision. Lucifer takes Aamon out on the town and makes preparations for his visit to Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew! finally got this chapter out. hopefully the length will make up for it a little. also a big thanks to [theleafpile](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theleafpile/pseuds/theleafpile) for tweaking the hallelujah lyrics for me and [ships_sailing_in_the_night](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_sailing_in_the_night/pseuds/ships_sailing_in_the_night) for being a rockin beta
> 
> ps. there will be a bit of a delay for the next chapter since i will be working on a deckerstar exchange fic (which i have been neglecting :/ )

Chloe isn’t entirely sure what will be waiting for her back at her place with Maze now that everything is out in the open, but perhaps she shouldn’t have worried. Maze is lounging on the couch, watching what Chloe thinks might be Luke Cage on Netflix. She exits out to the menu at their arrival and stretches sinuously. 

“Bout time you got home, Decker. I’m starving.” Maze complains and then she grins to take the sting out of her words. Chloe huffs and levels Maze a flat look. It rolls off of the demon like water off of a duck. Still, Maze is reaching for plates out of the cabinet, setting the table with the same carelessness she approaches most things with.

Chloe stops as she realizes Maze isn’t doing it on purpose, has never been doing it on purpose, but it’s likely she has never had to do all the small habits humans deem appropriate. 

“Mommy?” Trixie tugs on her hand, snapping her attention back to the present. “Can I watch cartoons?”

“Just until dinner.” Chloe replies, letting Trixie charge over to the television. She watches to make sure Trixie selects her own account and then gets started on dinner, pulling out their carton of noodles and getting out a pot to boil water in.

Mac and cheese by itself is all well and good, but lacking in protein. Chloe pulls the freezer drawer at the bottom of the fridge and eyes the contents inside critically. She hauls a bag of frozen fish sticks free. It’s nothing fancy, but it will please her picky eight year old and pickier roommate. 

She lays the fish sticks out on a pan with parchment paper and slides them in the oven. Maze, having finished setting the table...mostly, leans against the kitchen counter. Chloe fills the pot full of water and starts the burner on the stove. She turns to Maze who is watching her speculatively.

“What?” Chloe asks.

“Nothin’.” Maze replies, small smile playing at the edge of her mouth. “You’re handling this really well.”

Chloe gives a harsh bark of laughter. “I’m really not.” she replies. Chloe grips the edge of the counter with white knuckles and tries to swallow down the sudden wave of tangled emotion. Anger and fear and grief. 

“Is this a ’comfort the human moment’?” Maze asks, trying for humor, but unsure. “Cause I’m not great with those.”

“No.” Chloe replies, trying to get a hold of herself. “This is not one of those moments.” 

Maze hovers awkwardly nearby. “Are you sure? Linda has been coaching me on stuff like this and it really looks like one.”

Maze is trying so hard and Chloe feels like she’s tearing at the seams. Finally, Chloe gives a little nod. Maze steps close and carefully pats a hand on Chloe’s back. Maze’s touch is warmer than a normal person, but Chloe’s muscles relax at the higher temperature, loosening. Maze leaves her hand there longer than human politeness dictates, but it’s nice. 

“There there.” Maze says rotely, making Chloe laugh. 

Chloe takes a deep breath and pulls herself together. “Thanks.” she tells Maze. 

“You should talk to Linda.” Maze says instead of ‘You’re welcome.’ 

Chloe thinks of the text messages she had received from the Doctor and supposes that it might not be such a bad idea. “I’ll call her after dinner.” Chloe agrees. 

The water is boiling at this point, so Chloe salts it and adds the noodles. She stirs it lightly, breaking up the mass. “Watch the noodles.” Chloe instructs Maze, who does so warily, like it’s a pot full of snakes instead of harmless carbohydrates. 

Chloe gets the extra cheese, milk, and butter from the fridge. She sets everything on the counter and leans to put Trixie in her eyesight. She’s still happily absorbed in the television. 

Soon enough the noodles are cooked and strained and cheesified. The fish sticks are ready and filling the house with the smell of cooked food. It’s enough to drag Trixie into the kitchen. 

“It it ready?” she asks, impatient. 

“Almost, baby. Go take a seat.” Chloe answers. 

Trixie grins and takes a seat at the table, looking in confusion at the set up, then shrugging and deciding to just go with it. 

“Grab the fish sticks would you?” Chloe asks Maze, taking an oven mitt and carrying the pot of macaroni carefully. 

Maze grabs the hot metal with bare hands, but seems entirely unharmed when Chloe boggles at her. 

“Demon.” Maze says. 

“Right.” Chloe replies, blinking. Not just a scary face then. 

Trixie doesn’t seem to care, scooping a large helping of macaroni on her plate. They join her at the table and tuck in, no standing on ceremony in the Decker household. 

Maze asks Trixie about school, surprisingly knowledgeable about the elementary drama unfolding in Trixie’s class. Trixie is telling a story about glue bookmarks being made in desks behind the teacher’s back and Maze makes a wry remark, startling a laugh from Chloe. 

Trixie beams. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Mommy.” 

Chloe sobers a little, smiling at her daughter’s concern. “I’m getting there.” 

“Are you and Lucifer fighting?” she asks with eyes too knowing for an eight year old. Chloe sometimes forgets how many fights with Dan their daughter accidentally overheard before they separated. 

“No, we’re not - we’re not fighting.” Chloe starts. She changes tactics. “Do you remember me telling you that Lucifer had a secret he wanted to share?”

Trixie nods, her brown eyes solemn. “Is that what you argued about?” 

“A little.” Chloe admits. “I was upset and Lucifer was too, so neither one of us handled things very well.” 

“Did he tell you the secret?” Trixie asks. 

“He did.” She hesitates. “Honey... Lucifer - is the Devil. Like really, _actually_ , the Devil.” Chloe says, trying to break it gently, wondering if she should even be doing this, if she’s scarring her kid for life. 

“Yeah, I know mommy.” she replies with a carefree shrug.

“You - you know?” Chloe says, surprised.

“Well. He _could_ have been a magician.” Trixie concedes, as if she’s granting her mother’s theory some level of value out of sympathy. “But he doesn’t have a rabbit and he never does any tricks.”

Maze is doing a very poor job of disguising her laughter. Chloe glares at her.

“Besides, he said he was the devil and Lucifer never lies.” Trixie points out.

“Right. Of course.” Chloe blinks and takes that in, because Trixie _does_ have a point. “And Lucifer being the devil doesn’t bother you?” 

Trixie thinks about that for a moment. “I don’t like what Jackson from school says about Lucifer. His mom teaches Sunday school and he says mean things. Lucifer isn’t evil.” Trixie says, with all the certainty of youth. “He’s _nice_. He scared the girl that was bullying me even though he didn’t have to.” 

Chloe gives her daughter a lopsided smile. Wisdom from the mouth of babes. “You know what, monkey?” she leans forward like she’s imparting a secret. “I think you’re right.” 

Trixie grins, pleased, and shovels another spoonful of macaroni into her mouth. Maze looks smug and superior so Chloe intentionally ignores her. 

After dinner, Maze gives Chloe a serious look. “Call Linda.” she directs, voice serious. Then she looks down at Trixie. “Let’s get you ready for bed.” 

Trixie looks like she might want to protest, but she sees how tired her mom is. “Will you read me a book?” she tries to bargain. 

“As long as it’s not the panda one.” Maze allows. Trixie grins and Maze gives her a nudge toward her bedroom. 

Chloe takes a deep breath and dials. She nearly chickens out, but Linda picks up on the third ring. 

“Detective!” Linda greets warmly. “What can I do for you?” 

“I um. I want to take you up on your offer. I was wondering if you’d have some time to talk tomorrow?” Her sentence scooping up into a question at the end. Chloe cringes at herself. 

“Of course.” Linda replies, easily smoothing over any discomfort. “I have some time in the morning before my regularly scheduled patients. Does nine work for you? Or I can do something later in the day.” 

“No, no. Nine is fine.” Chloe is quick to say. “And thank you. For doing this.” 

“Hey, we’re Tribe, remember?” And Chloe can hear the smile in her voice. “Plus, I think it will be nice to finally have someone I can talk to about the supernatural who isn’t actually...supernatural.” Linda says candidly. 

Chloe huffs a laugh. “I agree.” 

“I’ve got to run, but I’ll see you bright and early, Chloe.” Linda says. 

“Yeah, sounds good.” Chloe returns, not wanting to keep her. “I’ll let you go.” 

They exchange farewells and Chloe sets her phone down. Well. That wasn’t so bad. She stands up and stretches. She walks to Trixie’s room and checks on her child, freshly changed into her pajamas. Maze lies on the bed next to her, looking disgruntled as she reads. 

Chloe smiles and observes for a moment until Maze reaches the end of the book and notices her standing there. “Creeper.” Maze grumbles. She and Trixie do their special and disturbing handshake and bid each other goodnight. Chloe steps forward to tell Trixie goodnight herself and places a kiss on her head. 

“Sleep tight, monkey.” she says and turns the light off and closes the door so it’s only cracked. 

Normally, Chloe would stay up for a bit, but she’s exhausted. She gives Maze a brief goodnight as she passes and heads to her own room. She changes into her own PJs and tosses her bra towards the foot of her bed to deal with later. She snuggles under the covers and slips quickly into sleep. 

**********

Lucifer does as Linda instructs and spends the rest of the evening ruminating on what he could have done differently, both with the Detective and Amenadiel. It’s depressing. He’s never been one for introspection and this is exactly the reason why. It’s all too easy to see where his faults lie after the haze of anger has passed.

He keeps his alcoholic consumption steady, maintaining a faint buzz to drown out his melancholy until his employees start to show up.

Lucifer greets the dancers, introduces Aamon to them, who says at his feet for the most part, and instructs Patrick to allow the Hellhound behind the bar, but not to give him any drinks besides water and the occasional soda. The light through the windows grows darker and darker.

Lucifer stays seated.

“Should we open the doors?” Patrick asks, uncertain. When Lucifer is in a mood like this Lux sometimes stays dark and empty.

Lucifer contemplates the swirl of whiskey in his glass. “Why not?” he asks. Patrick nods and goes to get things ready. “One last hurrah.” he says to himself quietly.

He should leave for Hell tonight, but he won’t. He’s going to put it off for a day, but no longer than that. Tomorrow night, he will assume the mantle of the Lord of Hell, a title as weighty and troublesome as the wings on his back. Tonight, though. Tonight, he’s going to take for himself.

Lucifer observes the rush of people with distant eyes and downs the last of his drink. The DJ has started up the music and people are beginning to dance. He stands and joins them, absorbing himself in the crowd of writhing bodies, letting his mind shut off for a bit, sinking down into the sensation of warm skin. There’s a mouth against his neck and hands sliding around his waist. And it’s good and human and _sinful_.

Patrick snags his elbow from where Lucifer is sucking tequila off of the taut line of stomach belonging to a young woman - Kayla, he thinks - and shouts in his ear to be heard over the bass.

“It’s time for your set!” 

Lucifer allows himself to be dragged away from his delectable distraction and takes a seat at the piano. The club quiets and the lights go low. His fingers play the first few notes automatically, before he can even realize what song is spilling out. _Hallelujah_. He shakes his head and snorts. Still, as he prepares to lift up his voice in song, for a single, heartstopping moment it almost feels like it used to, in the Silver City, singing out praises.

But the ones around him are not his siblings and he is not Samael. 

He begins to sing, tweaking the words as he goes, “Now I’ve heard there was a secret chord, I’ve played them all, to please the Lord.” He keeps the keys soft, pulling his listeners in. He had sung that perfect chord with his brothers and sisters in flawless harmony to the delight of their father. 

He sings of a woman, “Your faith was strong, but you needed proof,” and she’s beautiful under the moonlight. In his mind’s eye he can only see Chloe. Chloe with her haunting gaze and her burning touch.

“And from my lips she drew the hallelujah.” and he misses the first part of the chorus trying to keep his voice from breaking.

He manages the early half of the next verse just fine, letting his voice swell and intensify. He pours his anguish into the lyrics, letting them fall from his mouth naked and raw. “And love is not a victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.”

He continues on automatic, vision blurred, fingers plying the notes from the instrument as he sings the next verse without error. He alters the last one. “I know that there’s a God above, but all I ever learned from love, is that a man like me could never deserve you.” his voice cracks.“And it’s not a cry that you hear at night. It’s not somebody who’s seen the light. It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.”

He trails off into to the final chorus until it becomes a mantra, repeated to the point of meaninglessness. Then he fades into silence. The audience is nearly holding their breath, the moment captured in quintessential stillness. And then it breaks, the rush of applause, of calls and whistles. Lucifer lifts his head, blinking against the light, having almost forgotten they were there.

Then there’s a woman stepping forward, gripping at his collar. “You could make me cry hallelujah all night.” she quips, one hand sliding down his chest and then she’s dipping low and kissing him. Lucifer opens up under her mouth, the hot slide of her tongue, and lets her pull him to his feet. 

He loses himself in the alcohol and the noise and crush of people. 

*********

Chloe hesitates in front of Dr. Martin’s office door. It’s intimidatingly professional. Normally, Chloe isn’t one to let her nerves get the best of her, but everything about this feels weirdly official. She raises her hand and forces herself to knock. There’s the sound of movement and the door opens, revealing Linda’s face. 

“Ah, Chloe. You’re here! Come on in.” Linda opens the door wide.

Chloe follows her inside and awkwardly takes a seat, sinking back into the couch. 

“You’re looking well.” Linda says as she bustles around her desk for a bit, grabbing her notepad and searching for a pen. She finds one and grins in victory.

“I’m doing alright.” Chloe replies, tucking her hands under her thighs. 

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Linda turns and takes her seat across from Chloe. “And thank you for coming in early. Hopefully it didn’t inconvenience your schedule too badly.”

Chloe shakes her head. “I have the day off.” she says. “And Maze is watching Trixie.” 

“So you aren’t having any reservations with Maze now that you know?”

“I did a little at the very first, but Maze swore a blood pact that no harm would come to Trixie. Not that I thought it would!” Chloe tells her quickly. “But it was nice that she did anyway. I needed to hear it.”

Linda’s face softens. “Well, Trixie was Maze’s first friend here. I’m not surprised she would take her safety seriously.” 

Chloe takes that in. She hadn’t quite thought of it like that. Linda smiles at her. “Trixie is a very loving girl, you’ve done a great job with her despite the challenges you’ve faced. You should be very proud.” 

“I am.” Chloe replies, feeling warmed by the compliment. 

“It seems to me that you’re taking this whole Celestial Beings thing pretty well.” Linda tells her. 

“I think part of me knew, I just...never acknowledged it.” Chloe says slowly. “I never _wanted_ to.” 

“That could be.” Linda grants. “It’s a lot to try and comprehend. And denial is a powerful thing.”

“It still surprised me when that man -” Chloe gestures around her face. “I guess it hadn’t been real to me until then.”

“It can be jarring. When I found out I was _terrified_. But you,” Linda pauses. “You were angry.”

Chloe looks at Linda with confusion. “How did you...” 

“I spoke with Lucifer yesterday.” Linda answers. 

“Oh.” Chloe looks down at her hands. Chloe wants to ask about him, wants to know if he’s okay, but swallows the questions down. Linda observes her for a moment and continues.

“I’ve found in my experience that anger is usually a subsumption of _hurt_.”

Chloe huffs a self conscious little laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s accurate.”

“Why did you feel hurt, Chloe?” Linda asks softly. 

“I - I felt. I don’t know what I felt.” Chloe shakes her head. Linda waits her out. “I guess I just felt like everything between us had been based on a lie.” 

“Lucifer is still Lucifer. He hasn’t changed.” Linda says. 

“I know that.” Chloe is quick to say. “I know that, I do.” 

“But?” 

“There’s so much I don’t know, so much about him that he keeps secret. How am I supposed to trust him?” 

“He wants to tell you the truth, Chloe. Have you talked with him? Since?” Linda presses gently. 

Chloe blows a breath out and shakes her head. “No.” 

“Is there something holding you back?” 

“I needed some time to think about things.” she says. Linda waits patiently while Chloe gathers her thoughts. “And I’m afraid.” Chloe admits.

“Of him?” Linda asks. 

“No.” Chloe says. “No, I’m not - I wouldn’t be scared of him.” And she’s not, even at the height of his anger she didn’t fear him.

Linda writes something down. “What is it that scares you, then?” 

Chloe worries the edge of her sleeve between her fingers, trying to control the burning in her throat. “Just having that conversation. What it means.” she confesses quietly. 

Linda nods understandingly. “Being emotionally vulnerable can be scary. That doesn’t mean it won’t be worth the risk.” 

“What if I screw this up? I don’t want to lose him.” Chloe says, fear gripping her. 

“You won’t lose him.” Linda reassures. “Lucifer cares very deeply for you. He wants things to work out.”

Chloe nods. “I do, too.” 

“My advice? Take what time you need, but talk to him. There’s not much I can say beyond that.” 

“I know. You’re right.” Chloe says. 

“Don’t forget to take care of _you_ , either, Chloe.” Linda gives her a serious look. “This is more than has ever been asked of a human before. I know you’re used to taking care of things by yourself, but don’t forget you have support.”

Chloe nods. “I won’t.” she says, but she knows it will be harder not to just deal with it on her own. 

“Good. Now, besides Lucifer, is there anything you want to talk about?” Linda asks. 

Chloe thinks about it. “You know, I don’t think there is.” she says, a little surprised. “Things with Dan are good, Trixie isn’t having difficulties at school, Maze - well, so much about Maze makes so much more sense now.”

Linda smiles. “It really does, doesn’t it?” she asks rhetorically. She closes her notebook. “Well, I think that’s it, then. Feel free to give me a call if you need anything more.” Linda drops the formality. “Or if you need a friend to have a drink or three with.”

Chloe laughs. “Don’t tempt me.” 

Linda and Chloe part amiably and Chloe pauses outside the door, leaning up against the wall and biting down on her lip. Linda is right, about a lot of things, but definitely about needing to talk with Lucifer. There are so many things still unanswered and she can't move on with processing things until she does.

 _Tonight._ she resolves. She'll go and talk to Lucifer tonight.

*********

Lucifer wakes up with two strangers, a man and a woman who he only vaguely recollects, in his bed and Aamon looking at him reproachfully from the nearby chair.

“What.” Lucifer growls out.

“They are not the Mistress.” Aamon says with a mix of confusion and something as close to disapproval as a Hellhound can manage. 

Lucifer sighs and throws the covers off of himself. He looks down and makes a face. Right, shower first. 

“I don’t understand.” Aamon says, trailing after Lucifer, uncaring of his nudity.

“Clearly.” Lucifer replies and gently closes the bathroom door, nudging Aamon’s toes back when he tries to follow him in. Aamon presses up against the door and whines. “I’m fine, Aamon!” Lucifer calls through the wall.

“But I can’t see you.” he protests.

Lucifer makes a strangled noise and opens the door. Aamon sidles in eagerly and sits on the ground, braced against the linen closet. Lucifer ignores him as he turns on the spray, waiting for it to warm up before ducking under.

“Why would you seek mates other than the Mistress?” Aamon asks, sounding genuinely perplexed.

“Because the _Mistress_ doesn’t want to mate with me.” Lucifer snaps, reaching for the soap.

“That’s not true.” Aamon replies, oddly certain. 

Lucifer pushes his wet hair away from his face and sticks his head out. “What do you mean, that’s not true.” he grouses.

“I can tell.” Aamon says and taps his nose. 

Lucifer blinks. His eyebrows skyrocket. “Can you really?” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

“She was bite-angry and scared.” Aamon says, resting his head back against the cabinet. “You should,” Aamon struggles to find the words and Lucifer waits patiently. “You should give her the bigger piece of the food and lick her.”

Lucifer laughs, but it’s not unkind. Aamon smiles at the sound. “You know, you may be onto something there, Aamon.” he answers, scrubbing at his scalp, suds running down his arms. 

Dinner and a kiss goodnight, perhaps. Lucifer’s expression falls. If Chloe is even willing to speak to him after all of this, that is. He moves his face into the spray before tilting his head back to rinse the shampoo free. 

“Shall we go get you some clothes today, darling?” Lucifer asks, eyes closed. “And a place to sleep?” 

Aamon looks down at the clothes he’s wearing. They’re a combination of cast offs he had found before coming to Lux and a few of Lucifer’s he’d scrounged from off the floor. It seems fine to him. “If it pleases the Master.” Aamon says neutrally.

“It does.” Lucifer replies. “If you’re good for me today, we’ll stop and get you some treats.” He steps out of the shower and reaches for his towel, drying his hair before tying it around his waist. He stands next to Aamon who tries to lick the moisture from his fingers before Lucifer pushes him away. “Perhaps you ought to have a bath as well.” Lucifer eyes him.

Aamon remains silent. Lucifer sniffs at him. 

“Ugh, yep. You smell like an alley. Hop in.”

“But Master.” Aamon starts.

“Nope, no buts.”

Aamon strips and cleans himself quickly, disliking the smell of Lucifer’s body wash and electing to use only the bar of soap. The water is nice and warm, though. He bites at the spray, and Lucifer snorts at him. Then he’s out of the water and shaking it off, spraying water everywhere. Lucifer makes a dismayed noise and fetches a clean towel, rubbing him down and wrapping him up tight in it. Aamon retakes his seat, sinking down into a ball. 

Lucifer takes up position in front of his mirror and fixes his hair, glancing at himself from either side, satisfied. Then goes on the eyeliner, artfully smudged. A spray of cologne that makes Aamon sneeze briefly. Then they move on to the closet. Lucifer opens a drawer and pulls on a pair of briefs and selects a dark blue shirt. Then a grey suit, socks, etc. Aamon watches from the door, content to remain near by.

Lucifer picks out some clothes for Aamon, the lurid green monstrosity he had been forced to wear after his unfortunate mishap in Pop’s kitchen, but it’s soft and loose. Lucifer fishes out a pair of sweatpants from the section of his closet dedicated to left behind articles of clothing by guests. Aamon loves them, spinning in happy circles. Lucifer deems it good enough for now, until they get him a proper wardrobe.

When they exit, Lucifer’s bedfellows are just now rousing. He hands them each a mug of coffee and starts making breakfast. They both have the slightly bewildered look of individuals who just had the best, filthiest, sex of their lives and are still figuring out how to comprehend it. 

Lucifer feeds them scrambled eggs and toast and then, after making sure they are adequately dressed and have all their belongings, gently herds them to the elevator, dismissing them. He makes a few phone calls and slips into his shoes.

“Well, now that things are settled, shall we go?” Lucifer asks and Aamon replies by falling into step at his Master’s side. They head downstairs to where the club is being cleaned up, Lucifer chats briefly with the cleaners before clicking his tongue for Aamon and continuing outside. Aamon gets inside the Corvette, watching how Lucifer does and mimicking it.

Lucifer starts the engine up and pulls out of the alleyway, merging into traffic and picking up speed. Aamon closes his eyes in pleasure at the wind against his face. Lucifer chuckles to himself as the Hellhound leans his head out the window, mouth parted, totally blissed out.

They drive down the strip, Lucifer taking the scenic route for Aamon to enjoy and then selects a parking spot in front of a dark building. Lucifer locks the car and begins walking to the storefront, opening the door only to realize Aamon isn’t behind him. He turns to see Aamon looking up at one of the display windows.

The mannequin wears a dark coat, long, heavy. It’s fashionable for sure, but utterly impractical in the Los Angeles heat, likely the factor it remains unsold. Lucifer looks at it for a moment and then back at Aamon contemplatively. 

“Aamon.” he calls and gives a little whistle, jerking the Hellhound from his reverie. Lucifer grins at him and Aamon looks a little sheepish as he rejoins his Master. He holds the door open and gestures for Aamon to step inside. 

A man strides up to meet them, cutting a lean figure in his suit, tailored to within an inch of its life, fitting like a second skin. His hair is slicked back, but a dark curl escapes to spill artfully, and no doubt intentionally, over his forehead. 

“Lucifer!” he greets, flamboyant and pleased to see him. “My absolute most _favorite_ customer.” 

“Marco.” Lucifer returns, only slightly more subdued, but no less genuine, his grin wide and friendly. Marco strides right up into Lucifer’s space and they kiss each other’s cheeks briefly. “And here I thought it was just my money you liked.” he teases. 

Marco runs his hands down the lapels of Lucifer’s suit, looking up at him seductively. “That certainly doesn’t hurt.” Marco spins to Aamon. “And just who is this handsome fellow you’ve brought to see me today?” 

Aamon looks uncertain, shifting his eyes to Lucifer briefly. “This is Aamon.” Lucifer introduces with pride. Marco moves forward, but Aamon takes a quick step back when Marco reaches for him. “It’s alright, darling.” Lucifer says soothingly. Aamon shifts hesitantly before darting forward to press a quick kiss to Marco’s cheek and then falls back to Lucifer’s side. Marco blinks, a little stunned, but then it melts into a warm smile. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Aamon.” Marco claps his hands together once jovially. “What can I do for you boys today?” 

Lucifer tilts his head toward Aamon. “I need a wardrobe selection for Aamon.” 

Marco eyes the current outfit and nods gravely. “I can see that. Well! Shall we get the measurements and proceed from there?” 

Lucifer nods and Aamon trails after them. Marco leads them to a back room, dark and draped with rich fabric. There’s a hexagonal platform off to one side, surrounded by mirrors and a dozen drawers and closets and tools. Lucifer takes a seat and reaches for the nearby decanter of scotch, pouring himself a drink while Aamon stands patiently nearby. 

“Right up here, my dear.” Marco directs Aamon, who looks back at Lucifer for confirmation, and after receiving a nod, does as he’s directed. He fidgets just a little as Marco begins moving around him, selecting a measuring tape and stepping in close. 

“Hold still.” Lucifer commands gently and Aamon complies, holding himself upright as Marco takes his measurements. The nearness of a practical stranger makes Aamon nervous, but he relaxes at Lucifer’s words, trusting. “Good boy.” he praises.

“Are we doing a full suit?” Marco asks Lucifer. 

“No.” Lucifer answers. “A few dress shirts, perhaps. Soft materials, if you can.” 

Marco nods with an easy grin. He looks Aamon over and taps a finger against his mouth. “I think I have just the thing.” He returns with a stack of shirts in blues and grays, mostly nice but casual and with a few fancier ones mixed in. “Try these. If they don’t work, send them back.”

“You have my full confidence, Marco. Your taste is impeccable.”

Marco grins flirtatiously and waves off Lucifer’s compliment. “Sweetheart, you keep bringing by such cuties and we’re even.” 

Aamon takes the pants offered to him, a dark wash jeans that already have the aged softness, and replaces the sweatpants with them. Lucifer examines the cut from his seat and finds it perfectly suited, not tight enough to hinder Aamon’s movement, nor loose enough to be unflattering. 

Marco selects a light blue shirt and drapes it around Aamon’s shoulders. Aamon slides his arms through. Lucifer watches Marco with hawk-sharp eyes as he buttons it. Aamon’s jaw tightens when Macro’s hands get too close to his throat, trying to remain as unmoving as he can. Lucifer steps forward, Marco reads the situation and gracefully bows out while Lucifer fastens the last few buttons. 

“The coat in the display window -” Lucifer starts. 

“Say no more.” Marco cuts off, “I already had one brought down when I saw you boys eyeing it.” An assistant bring it forward and Marco flares the coat out dramatically. 

“Is this the one?” Lucifer asks Aamon. 

“Yes.” he replies instantly, too eager to help himself. 

Marco hands Lucifer the coat and he slides it up Aamon’s arms, brushing down the shoulders to straighten it out. Lucifer comes round to look and smiles, proud. “Very distinguished, Aamon.” 

Aamon touches at the coat collar with careful hands. “It is too grand.” he protests, blue eyes wide. 

“Nonsense, darling.” Lucifer replies. “I want you to have it.” 

“If the Mas-” Aamon halts, slides his eyes toward Marco and amends himself. “If you insist.” 

“I do.” Lucifer says warmly. Marco brings out a belt and shoes to match. Aamon manages the shoes fine, but seems confused by the belt. Lucifer slides it through the pant loops and buckles it. Lucifer steps back and gives Aamon a once over. The Hellhound looks very nice, more casual that Lucifer’s own look, but stylish and comfortable.

Lucifer turns to Marco. “Wrap it all up for me, would you?” 

“Of course, Mister Morningstar.” Marco answers. “Shall I take the coat?” 

“No.” Aamon says, gripping the sleeves tight. 

Lucifer considers. Wearing a wool coat in the California will prove no obstacle for a Hellhound’s constitution, having been built for the blistering heat of Hell. “I think not, Marco.” Lucifer decides. “The rest of it, please.”

“At once.” Marco winks and slips out of the room. Soon enough it’s all wrapped up in neat garment boxes that Lucifer carries out while Aamon opens the door for him. 

“The rest will be sent over to Lux in two weeks.” Marco says. 

“Marvelous.” Lucifer slips an extra hundred in Marco’s pocket as he goes and winks. Marco flutters his eyelashes, prompting a laugh from the devil. 

Lucifer secures the boxes in the boot of the car and slides into the driver’s seat. Aamon looks back at him, grinning. 

“Right. Next on the agenda, an actual bed for you to sleep on.” Lucifer says, thinking this will be simple enough.

However, the mattress warehouse proves to be an exercise in futility. Aamon dislikes nearly every model, becomes sullen and prickly when Lucifer presses. Lucifer _could_ order him to choose one and he would, but he knows Aamon would be unhappy with it. 

“What is it exactly that you don’t like?” Lucifer finally asks after trying out nearly every type available in the store. 

“The softness is fine.” Aamon starts slowly, as if fearing repercussions, but at Lucifer’s patient but expecting look, continues. “I don’t like the way they smell.” He shakes his head. “Smells wrong. Empty.”

Lucifer sighs. “Well, there’s nothing that can be done about that.”

“I like the pillows and blankets back at Lux.” Aamon says, nearly whining. 

“Very well.” Lucifer replies, resigned. He thanks the storeroom salespeople for their help and leaves without making a purchase, Aamon trailing a step behind. “I suppose you were fairly well behaved today.” Lucifer says consideringly. “Shall we go get you something fun?”

“Yes!” Aamon says enthusiastically, squirming in his seat. Lucifer grins and guns the engine. He pulls into a pet shop parking spot with a squeal. Aamon can hardly contain his excitement, keeping his hands shoved into his pockets, dogging at Lucifer’s heels. He keeps inhaling quick sniffs, snorting, and then sniffing again.

The sliding doors part and Aamon takes in the store with wide eyes. Someone with a dog on a leash walks by and the dog growls. Aamon growls back, teeth flashing. The dog cowers abruptly, pushing against its owner’s leg. Lucifer places a subduing hand on Aamon’s shoulder, gently pushing him forward while the owner looks up, confused.

“Easy, now.” Lucifer murmurs. Aamon ducks his head and looks sheepish.

They walk through the store, largely browsing, Lucifer stopping now and again to eye a product. Aamon pauses in the aisle, standing in front of shelves filled with pet beds. He reaches a hand out to touch the soft outside and then pushes his face into it, smelling. He looks back at Lucifer. “Can I have one of these?” he requests. 

Lucifer glances up from where he was comparing two different boxes of treats to see what Aamon means. “You prefer this over the mattress?” Lucifer asks, looking over the pet beds critically. 

Aamon nods. “They smell nice.” he supplies. Lucifer acquiesces, tugging the largest and thickest bed into the aisle. 

Aamon crouches and flops over onto it. He wriggles around and then sighs, content. 

“Is this the one, then?” Lucifer asks with a chuckle.

Aamon nods, stretching his limbs and rubbing his face against the soft material. 

“Get up, you great lump. I’ll not drag you around on it.”

Aamon reluctantly obeys, getting to his feet and Lucifer picks the bed up and places it in the cart. “Now. I promised you a few toys, didn’t I?”

Aamon bounces on his toes cheerfully, trailing behind a half step. They select a rubber ball, a large flavored bone, and a tug rope. Aamon whines when the cashier places the ball in the bag, so as soon as they are outside, Lucifer digs around and hands it to him. He holds onto it tightly, sticking it in his pocket happily. 

Lucifer takes them back to Lux and finally gives in to Aamon’s imploring eyes and throws the ball for him. They play fetch until Aamon exhausts himself and falls asleep in one of the booths, the late afternoon sun slanting through the windows.

Lucifer checks the time and gives Patrick a call. He lets the man know he’ll be out of town a few days, imparts a few details in the aid of running Lux while he’s gone, and instructions to call Maze if anything happens in his absence. With that taken care of he moves on to other matters.

**********

Linda has just taken her shoes off and settled down with a glass of wine when her phone rings, the devil emojii displaying. She wonders whether or not to answer it, but knows if she doesn’t there will no doubt be a six foot tall devil at her door.

“Lucifer.” she says. “What’s up?” 

“Linda, I have a favor to beg of you.” His voice is low and entreating.

“What is it, Lucifer?” Linda asks, concerned. Lucifer is usually not so hesitant about these things. 

“I’ll be going to Hell, quite literally, tonight and I don’t know how long I will be. Would it be possible for you to look in on Aamon while I’m gone?” 

“You’re leaving him at Lux?” Linda finds herself troubled at the thought of Aamon left alone.

“I’d ask Maze stay with him, but she’s still...rather upset with me.” 

“You could bring him here.” Linda says, before she can stop the words. She winces. 

“Oh.” Lucifer says, sounding surprised. “Oh, that would be lovely, Linda. He’s largely self sufficient. He just gets so lonely, you know. I’ll bring him and his things over, shall I?” 

“Anytime would be fine.” Linda tells him, her voice calm even as she slowly lowers her head to the couch armrest. 

“Wonderful. See you in just a bit, my dear.”

She doesn’t have to wait long, it’s half an hour and there’s a knock on her door. She downs the rest of her wine and opens it to Lucifer, hands loaded down with stuff, and Aamon standing at his side.

“Hello, Doctor.” Lucifer says, stepping inside. “Is there a place you would like his things?”

“The guest room would be fine.” Linda says.

Lucifer frowns. “That will be suitable for his clothing, but Aamon will want to be in the same room as you to sleep.”

“Stand guard.” Aamon adds, chest puffing out proudly.

Linda regrets agreeing to this. Her life is so weird at this point, though, so what’s a Hellhound in her bedroom? She throws a hand up. “Yeah, alright.”

Lucifer deposits the clothes into the guest closet and returns to the car, leaving Linda and Aamon alone.

“Will you be okay staying here?” she can’t help but ask, wondering if Lucifer even checked with Aamon.

Aamon nods. “Maze is looking after the Mistress and the Master will be absent. It is only right.” he tells her and seems remarkably at ease with his logic.

Lucifer brings in a legit dog bed and Linda stares. He starts to step into her bedroom and she catches at his arm. “Nuh-uh.” she says and takes the bed from him. He pouts, but respect her boundaries. Aamon trails after her inside and she looks at him, holding the large cushion that’s nearly as big as her.

“Oh, so _he’s_ allowed into your bedroom?” Lucifer calls after them petulantly, which Linda elects to ignore.

“Do you have a spot you like to sleep?” she asks. Aamon takes the bed from her, steps forward, sniffing, and then, after a few minutes of exploring, plops it down at the foot of her bed.

“Here is good.”

“Wonderful.” Linda says, a bit faintly. She goes back out to the living room to see that Lucifer has brought in the rest of the items, toys and treats.

“That should be everything he needs. If you have any problems, call Maze. She should be happy enough to help you.” he says, just a touch of sadness.

“Maze won’t be mad at you forever, just give her time.” Linda soothes.

“Seems I’m giving everyone time.” he retorts.

“Has Chloe gotten in touch with you?” Linda asks, casting out feelers.

“No. Not as such.” Lucifer replies, visibly walling himself off from her. Linda sighs. So much for that.

“I’m sure she will soon.” she says, reaching out to squeeze his arm. He manages a brittle smile.

“Thank you for watching Aamon.” he says, changing the subject. 

“You’re welcome.” Linda replies.

“You be good for Linda.” Lucifer commands Aamon, who nods seriously. “While you are in her care, her word is law.”

“Yes, Master.”

Lucifer smiles and runs a hand over Aamon’s dark hair. He looks at Linda and his eyes go soft. “Until next time.” he says bends down to kiss her forehead. A warm sensation spreads from the contact and Linda feels a bit dizzy. It’s too late to ask Lucifer about it because he swiftly moves on, exiting her house and closing the door behind him. 

Perhaps it was just the wine. Linda thinks she’s going to sit down for a minute anyway.

**********

Lucifer parks the corvette and begins walking down to the beach. Everything has been taken care off, Lux is handled, Aamon has a place to stay. There’s nothing more to take care off, no more errands to run that he can use to stall.

He thinks about calling Chloe, but doesn’t believe he would be welcome just yet. Besides, he’s left enough mysterious messages on her phone. He doesn’t think he could bear saying goodbye on a voicemail.

He stands on the beach and watches the sun begin to set. He watches the families leave and the sky become painted with fiery colors. He’s delaying and he knows it. There’s only one more farewell left. He takes his mobile out and stares down at it. 

Might as well bite the bullet. He dials.

“What.” Maze answers, her syllables clipped.

“Mazikeen.” he says and his voice wobbles with fear. He closes his eyes and steels himself.

Instantly, her voice changes. “Lucifer, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” he says, and the lie sits heavy in his mouth.

“Where are you?” she asks, now sounding concerned.

“On the beach.” he answers and offers no further explanation. There’s none needed. They both know which beach he’s talking about. They both know what it means.

“You’re going back?” Maze asks, sounding surprised. He’s not sure why. Perhaps she thought he would stick around before going Below to close the Gates. The sooner he does it the better. He’s afraid if he put it off, he would never go. He’d rather just get it over with.

“Chloe and Beatrice.” He takes a careful breath. “You.” he halts, swallowing, “You will look out for them while I’m gone.”

He makes sure it’s a statement and not a question. He needs her to do this. For him, for his peace of mind. Otherwise, he won’t be able to leave.

“You’re coming back, though. Right?” Maze asks, her words hard. 

He doesn’t answer. What is he to say?

“ _Right_?” she repeats demandingly, an undercurrent of something frightened in her voice. 

He closes his eyes tightly, the phone creaking in his grip. “Do as I say, Mazikeen.”

“Lucifer!” Maze says sharply and he forces himself to hang up before the burn in his throat moves to his eyes. He crushes the phone, glass shattering harmlessly against his skin. With his immortality intact it almost tickles. He lets the shards fall from his hand and into the sand. He contemplates lighting up one last cigarette, but doesn’t have it in him to bother.

The water laps at the toes of his shoes with a soft rush. He laughs, soft and bleak. He takes a deep breath and steps forward into the foam, wading into the ocean. The cold water soaks his socks, his shoes squelching as he takes one step after another. It saturates his trousers, his shirt, frigid against his skin, the sodden weight dragging him down. His heart feels heavy inside his chest, water pressure compressing his ribs. He lifts his face above the waterline until his feet can’t reach the bottom and continues to swim.

He swims further and further out until his strokes grow sloppy, until his arms tremble, until he can hardly see the shore, the skyline a dazzling string of lights. His extremities have gone cold and numb, but it’s a distant sort of sensation. 

Lucifer takes a few quick, bracing lungfuls of air and dives. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


End file.
